


Giving Love is an Education Itself

by sharkie335



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha!Clint, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Background Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Background Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is touch starved, Hydra can suck a bag of dicks, M/M, No actual heat shown, Omega!Bucky, Omegas need touch (and sex), Self-Lubrication, WSC can suck a bag of dicks, d/s dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: When Bucky Barnes comes in from the cold, the World Security Council wants to send him to the Raft.  Tony talks them down, but is the alternative going to work?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 107
Kudos: 265
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My fabulous artwork was done by vicioushyperbolizer and is located [here](https://vicioushyperbolizer.tumblr.com/post/634779196771696640/i-want-to-them-everyone-at-winterhawkbigbang-and)!
> 
> Thank you to unfittingpuzzlepieces for being a fantastic beta.
> 
> The artwork will be going up on Tumblr shortly and I'll link it when it does.
> 
> A/B/O carries with it a certain amount of dubcon, but Clint is ADAMANT that Bucky consent as much as he's able, so nothing non-consensual happens.

Clint sat in the waiting area with the rest of the team, an uneasy eye on Steve. No, not Steve. This was _Captain America_ , ready to ride in and right all the wrongs, except that this time, all he'd done was manage to nearly start a fight with the World Security Council before Tony and Fury had bundled him up and out of the room, leaving Bucky Barnes to whatever fate they could negotiate for him.

When Steve had been pushed out of the room, the team didn't know about it. It'd just been Natasha, who'd whispered what had happened to Clint in their own private language when she called. And, even though he didn't know Barnes at all, he respected Steve and the bond he had with his oldest friend. So, he'd come down to sit and wait, as had Bruce. 

Steve wasn't looking at any of the three of them, and it had been at least an hour since he'd spoken. He wasn't _quiet_ , though, little murmurs of anger and fear practically leaking out of his pores. Bruce looked uncomfortable to be near him when he was so furious. Truth be told, Clint was also uncomfortable as hell - no one could carry that much rage safely. Thankfully for all concerned, this wasn't making Bruce angry - yet - so it was just Steve they had to worry about.

Natasha sat at Steve's side, and it was her grip on his arm that kept him from doing more than going to his feet when the door finally swung open. Tony stood there, exhaustion weighing his shoulders and the corners of his mouth.

"We think we have a deal," Tony said, and Steve visibly braced himself.

"What is it?" Steve said, his voice a harsh whisper. 

Tony closed his eyes and massaged the sockets with one hand. "The WSC wants to send him to the Raft - "

Steve stepped forward, anger and hurt in every inch of his body, and Clint tensed, coming up to his feet. There wasn't much he could do against Steve if he was in full steam, but he wasn't going to let him hurt Tony. They'd gone through too much to lose it in the heat of anger.

"Sit _down_ , Rogers," Tony ordered, and Steve collapsed as if his strings had been cut. 

Clint was impressed. Not very many people could cut the knees out from under Steve quite that fast. Some advantages to being bonded, he guessed.

"Do you honestly think that I'd come in here and tell you that, _like_ that, if I hadn't gotten a better deal?" Tony demanded, and his glare could have peeled paint. "What kind of negotiator do you think I am?"

Steve blinked hard, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, but he didn't say anything.

Apparently recognizing that that was the best he was going to get, Tony sighed and shook out his shoulders. "Yes, the WSC wants to send him to the Raft until they can get all of his triggers cleared out. I argued - _successfully_ \- that we can do that just as easily here, and at least here he's surrounded by other people who can take him down if it's required, without immediately resorting to lethal force."

He paused, clearly bracing for another outburst, and when it didn't come, he nodded.

"They agreed. But there are... conditions. One, he has to let me check over the arm for any tracking devices, explosives, or other weapons. If there are any, I have to disable them. The alternative was them taking the arm entirely."

Steve nodded, short and sharp. "You said one, that means that there are others. Let's hear them."

"He has to live with a member of the team," Tony said, and before Steve could volunteer their apartment, he finished with, "Collared by an Alpha."

At that, Steve looked incredibly torn, and Clint couldn't blame him. Steve had just collared Tony a little over six months earlier, and Clint knew that Steve adored Tony with every fiber of his being.

But this was Bucky, Steve's oldest friend, who'd been living in a literal hell for seventy years. Steve was going to throw himself on that grenade, lose his relationship with Tony to protect him...

Before he realized what he was going to say, he opened his mouth and said, "I'll do it."

Everyone in the room turned to stare at him. "You sure about this?" Bruce asked, voicing the thought that was clear on all of their faces.

"Yes," Clint said, and at the doubtful expressions on Steve's and Tony's faces, he tried to explain the reasoning that seemed obvious to him. "The only Alphas on the team are Steve, Natasha, Parker, and me. And I'm the only one who's not either already bonded or underage. So, either I step up, someone has to break a bond that already exists, we bond him to a teenager who isn't even here to agree, or he goes to the Raft." He looked at Tony. "That pretty much sums up the available options, doesn't it?"

Tony hesitated, and then said quietly, "The Council did agree that he could be collared by someone already bonded."

Clint rolled his eyes. "Like that's not going to cause strain on the original bond." This time he looked at Steve. "Face it, Cap. I'm the reasonable option here. Unless you think I'm going to take advantage or something?"

"No, I don't think you'd do that," Steve said hurriedly, obviously aware of the insult that Clint could take. "Just... this is a lot to ask of anyone, especially of someone who's only met Bucky once, and that wasn't under great circumstances."

Clint shrugged. "Not the hardest thing I've done." He looked back at Tony. "Does it have to be a permanent arrangement, or would I be able to release him at some point?"

"The Council is divided on that," Tony said. "But I'm sure if Bucky proves to be stable and doesn't go around killing people, they could be talked around."

Nodding, Clint asked, "And Bucky agreed to this?"

"He agreed to the concept," Tony said. "But I didn't tell him that it would be you because I didn't think you'd volunteer. I was pretty sure I was going to end up sharing a bondmate, actually." Tony smiled, but there was a world of pain in that smile. Clint couldn't blame him - it sounded like Tony had pretty much volunteered to lose his lover, depending on what Bucky needed.

"Well, let's go ask him," Clint said. He stepped forward, matched by Steve, but he turned to face him. "Cap, you stay out here. He's had enough of his head being played with. This has to be as much his decision as it can be."

"What the hell do you know about it?" Steve gritted out.

Clint didn't say anything - he just stared at Steve silently, impassively, until the other man wilted. "Yeah, okay," Steve said after a few slow breaths. "Maybe you do have an idea."

"Thank you," Clint said and turned to follow Tony back to the other room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint starts to realize what he's gotten himself into.

Clint had seen Bucky Barnes on video from when he was the Winter Soldier and attacking DC and in person when he'd presented himself at the front desk of the Tower to turn himself in. Neither prepared him for what he saw when he went into the conference room where Barnes and Tony had been holed up with the WSC and Fury.

Barnes was huddled in on himself, clearly trying to make himself look small and unthreatening. Clint didn't think it was deliberate, either. Barnes had clearly given up, and he had a feeling that if the WSC had refused to accept a compromise and either ordered him to the Raft or to be killed, Barnes would have accepted it. 

He didn't even look up when Tony said, "Okay, we have an Alpha who's willing to collar Barnes." Tony motioned at Clint, and he took the two steps necessary to bring him to Tony's side. He couldn't help but notice the way several of the WSC members flinched at his presence. With the exception of one, they were all on video screens, and they were still scared of him, based on what happened with Loki. If they argued that he wasn't a good choice for this based on that experience, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

But the one member in the room - the US representative - just nodded her acceptance. "Agent Barton is acceptable," she said, and just like that, the rest of the council fell into line, murmuring their agreement. 

Fury nodded too, and his agreement meant more to Clint than that of any political bigwigs. "Yes, Agent Barton is a good choice," he said, his one good eye boring into Clint. Clint had no doubt that if the council had disagreed, Fury would have gone to bat for him, because he had never, not once, seen him as anything other than one of his agents since he'd been recovered from Loki.

"One person hasn't agreed," he said, because consent was _important_ , damn it. Especially for someone who hasn't been able to make a choice in seventy years. "Sergeant Barnes, I'm Clint Barton. Is this okay with you? If you only agreed to the conditions because you thought it would be Steve, we can discuss it."

Next to him, Tony shifted, turning to eye Clint. But he didn't argue, and neither did anyone in the room. In fact, it felt like the whole council was holding its collective breath.

Barnes raised his head, looking at Clint but not meeting his gaze directly. There was intelligence in his eyes and a remarkable amount of sadness. "It's fine with me if you're my new handler," he said, his voice flat and unemotional. It was such a contradiction to what Clint could see in his eyes. "It's better than I thought I'd get."

Not exactly a rousing, enthusiastic yes, and Clint didn't quite know what to make of Barnes thinking that Clint was his handler, but Clint realized that Barnes really didn't see any other options. He'd just need to make sure that he learned that there were _always_ options. "Can I come closer?" he asked.

Barnes nodded, his hair falling in his face, and Clint stepped closer. There was a slight shudder running through Barnes' muscles, and Clint realized that he was probably even more scared than Clint had thought at first. He reached out slowly, knowing that most likely Barnes wouldn't object to being touched, but not wanting to surprise the man. Carefully, he lifted Bucky's chin, making Bucky meet his eyes. "Okay, Sergeant. We can do this."

Behind him, he heard Tony on his phone. He held Barnes' gaze for a moment longer, then let his hand fall. Immediately, Barnes lowered his eyes again, staring somewhere around Clint's knees.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room for what seemed like a short eternity, and then the door opened, Natasha sliding into the room with a box in her hand. It was long, narrow, and Clint had no doubt that it contained a collar. Tony probably had this part of the plan in mind before he even came into the waiting room in the first place, even if he hadn't expected Clint to volunteer. 

Natasha came to stand next to Clint, handing him the box. He glanced at her, and she nodded, reassuring him. Opening the box, he found that it contained a simple leather collar. Basic, plain, and it had clearly been treated to be waterproof. It was just fine for the situation that they found themselves in now. 

When he lifted it out of the box, she took the box back from him. The WSC member narrowed her eyes. "I think that a more technological collar would be useful," she said. "At minimum, a shock collar in case Sergeant Barnes gets out of control."

Clint turned his gaze on her. "Absolutely not. Either you trust that the collaring is sufficient in itself, or you don't. I know enough about what Hydra did to Sergeant Barnes to refuse to replicate _any_ of it." Behind him, he heard the door open and close again, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve come up next to him. "Tony, was there anything in the agreement about protecting the Sergeant from punishment?"

"Absolutely," Tony said. "They agreed that he wasn't responsible for his actions, which is why this is possible."

"Then I'm not doing anything as barbaric as a shock collar," Clint said again, his eyes back firmly on the WSC member. "Is that understood?"

Her lips thinned as she clearly debated arguing the point. But right now, it was just her in the room with the Avengers and Fury, even if the rest of the WSC was still up on the screens, and she had to know that Fury wouldn't take her side - he'd long ago made shock collars against the few rules SHIELD had had. She eventually nodded.

Clint weighed the leather in his palm for a moment longer and then turned back to Barnes. He was considering handing the collar to Barnes so he could put it on himself, but before Clint could say anything, Barnes slid off his chair, kneeling on the floor, his chin slightly raised but his eyes closed.

The submissive posture sent a slight thrill through Clint, one that he was annoyed at himself for. He was more than his instincts, dammit. Even if Barnes did look amazing on his knees. 

Carefully, gently, he looped the leather around Barnes' neck, buckling it so that it was snug without being tight. Then he rested his hand on Barnes' upper back and was pleased to note that the shudders that had been shivering through him since they'd come into the room seemed to be easing. His shoulders relaxed, coming down from around his ears, and his breathing smoothed out.

Clint couldn't help but be pleased with that. Anything that made Barnes more comfortable was a good thing in his book, and clearly, for whatever reason, the collar did that. 

Then he noticed that the WSC was still watching, and annoyance washed over him again. This should have been in private, dammit, and with someone that Barnes had actually wanted rather than someone he was being forced to accept. In the meantime, though, Clint could get him away from those voyeuristic eyes.

Steadying his voice so that none of his feelings bled through, he leaned down a little, hooking one hand under Barnes' arm. "Come on, Sergeant," he said. "Let's get you somewhere you can rest for a while, okay?"

Barnes slowly stood back up, letting Clint help him keep his balance. Concerned, Clint glanced over at Tony, who just shook his head a little and then tipped it towards the door. Clint obeyed the silent instruction even as Tony was saying various pleasantries to the WSC. Clint could clearly hear the "Fuck off. Don't call us in," in Tony's voice, even if it was phrased in pretty words and pretend subservience.

As soon as they got out of the conference room, Barnes' legs gave out from under him, as if he could no longer keep himself upright. Clint had been expecting something like that, so he still had a grip on Barnes' arm, and Steve grabbed him on the other side, helping him to the room where they'd been waiting and easing him down on a chair. 

Barnes was whispering something so softly that Clint could barely hear it, but he had collared Barnes, and that meant it was his responsibility to deal with it, so he crouched down in front of Barnes, getting low enough to force Barnes to meet his eyes. He was whispering, "Sorry, sorry, I can do it, I'm sorry, don't, sorry," over and over, as if he was trapped in some sort of loop.

"Hey, hey, hey," Clint said, tucking a lock of Bucky's hair behind his ear. "Nothing to be sorry for. Just take a deep breath, okay?"

Steve was hovering over Barnes' shoulder, and Clint didn't want to tell him to bug off, but he didn't think Steve was helping either. "Steve, do you think you could get something for Sergeant Barnes to drink?" Clint asked, thinking that he'd kill two birds with one stone.

Barnes took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before saying, "Bucky. You should... you should call me Bucky. Not a sergeant anymore."

"If that's what you want," Clint said carefully, "then I'll call you Bucky. Have you eaten today?"

Barnes - Bucky - nodded, and then shook his head. "I think so? Maybe not, though. There was a sandwich?"

If Bucky burned through calories at a rate at all similar to Steve, even if that sandwich had been just before going into the room with the WSC, it wasn't enough. And Clint wasn't even sure that it had even been today, based on Bucky's confusion. He looked up, and Steve nodded. "I'll get him some food too. Bringing him up to the main floor?"

Even though Clint was used to people giving way to Alphas with collared Omegas, it was a little creepy to see Steve being so willing to defer to Clint about _Bucky_. He knew that they were going to have to have a conversation about it eventually, but in the meantime, he was going to take advantage of Steve's agreeability to get Bucky some privacy to adjust to the changes that were taking place in his life. "No, I think we'll go to my quarters. I've got two bedrooms, but there's no bed in the spare." 

Twisting around, he caught sight of Tony. "Think that could be rectified before night time, Tony?"

Tony said, "Oh, please," and then his phone was at his ear and he was barking out orders to someone on the other end. 

Turning his attention back to Bucky, he said softly, "Do you think you could go just a little longer, Bucky? Just to my apartment and then we'll get you fed and your head down for a while."

"I can keep going," Bucky said, but his voice wobbled, and Clint wondered what exactly had been done when Bucky had reached the point where he _couldn't_ keep going. Nothing good, he wagered.

For the moment, though, he rose back to his feet and hooked his arm back through Bucky's, pulling him up too. There was a little procession of most of the team following him to his apartment, only Steve peeling off to fetch food from the group kitchen.

The door opened as he approached, and Clint said, "JARVIS, this is Bucky's home now, too. Complete access to the entire suite, with free entry and exit."

There was a pause, and then JARVIS said, "I'm sorry, Agent Barton. The terms of Sergeant Barnes' arrangement with the WSC do not allow for free movement outside of the apartment unaccompanied at this time." Clint would have sworn on his bow that JARVIS sounded apologetic about that fact.

He turned to look at Tony, who shrugged. "He's not really in any condition to wander around anyway, Clint," Tony said. "After some of the mandated shrink sessions and when we know his triggers are cleared out, we'll try to adjust his access."

Clint didn't like it, but he didn't see any way around it, either. So he just nodded and guided Bucky to the couch. But when he would have helped Bucky sit down, Bucky slid to his knees once again.

His posture was straight out of an old romantic movie with a perfectly tamed Omega - sitting on his heels, hands on his thighs, eyes downcast. "Bucky, what are you doing?" Clint asked. "There's a perfectly good couch right here."

"I don't need it, sir," Bucky said, his voice surprisingly firm considering his obvious exhaustion. "Omegas should stay below their handlers."

Well, fuck. Sounded like Bucky's training as far as his status went was something straight out of the fifties - possibly the 1850s, at that. It was going to have to be addressed eventually, but today had already been a rough day for Bucky, and Clint didn't want to push him too hard too early.

So he sat on the couch right next to Bucky. "Bucky, is it okay if I touch you again?"

"I'm wearing your collar, sir. Of course you can touch me."

Clint's stomach did a little lurch at that, and if he'd been a praying man he would have prayed that Bucky hadn't been violated like _that_ as well. In the grand scheme of things, it probably wouldn't have been the worst thing to happen to him in the last seventy years, but it certainly would make things even more complicated. He kept his thoughts to himself, though, and simply ran his hand down Bucky's shoulder and back, trying to soothe and calm him.

Ignoring the buzzing going on as Tony harangued people on the phone about getting furniture and clothing for Bucky, he continued to pet Bucky, trying to bring a sense of safety. After a few moments, Bucky looked at him through his lashes. Taking a deep breath, he visibly braced himself and said, "I don't need a bed, sir. I can sleep on the floor."

Before Clint could say a word, Tony was next to him, one elegant eyebrow raised. "You need a bed, Bucky. You don't have to sleep in it until you're ready, but here, in this tower, no one _has_ to sleep on the floor. I may be an Omega, but I set the rules here."

The look of pure bafflement on Bucky's face was heartbreaking. "Doesn't your handler - your Alpha - make those decisions for you? I'm a very bad Omega. Alphas have to keep me on a tight leash." His words were disturbing in the extreme, but what was worse was how earnestly he said them, like they had been hammered into his brain as the truth and that he felt that he had to make them understand. 

Clint worked hard to keep from looking over at Tony. Bucky's words tore at all of Clint's instincts as an Alpha. Apparently none of the changes in Omega rights over the last fifty years had translated to Hydra. Not really surprising, Clint guessed. Easier to command someone who doesn't think he has the right to independent thought or decisions. He did, however, wait for Tony to answer. He thought Bucky seeing that Tony wasn't punished for speaking his mind would be good for him.

Tony crouched down next to where Bucky knelt, still picture perfect. "I know this is a lot to take in, Bucky. But no one - not me, not Steve, not even Clint - are going to overrule what you want when it comes to making your own decisions. For now, you need an Alpha because the WSC is full of assholes, but you are your own person. No one is going to punish you for voicing your opinion or a want. Do you get that?"

Bucky's eyes were wide, flicking between Tony and Clint. His hands clenched on his thighs, and his shoulders were creeping back up, and Clint could read the fear rolling off him like waves. "Tony," Clint said, "It's been a long day. He doesn't have to absorb it all at once."

Tony sighed and stood back up. "The bed should be here in about twenty. Should be just enough time to - " Clint's door opened, and Steve came through, a heavily loaded tray in his hands. "And just in time," Tony finished, his voice full of artificial cheer. "That's going to be just about enough for Bucky," Tony said with an obviously forced grin. "What is my favorite popsicle going to eat?"

Steve grinned a little at the nickname. "Your favorite popsicle isn't hungry right now." Then his eyes caught on Bucky, kneeling on the floor, and the edges of the tray started to crumple under the force of his hands. "What the hell?"

Tony took the steps necessary to get within reach of Steve, and gently took the tray away from him. "He chose to sit like that, Steve," he said, carrying the tray over to where Bucky knelt next to Clint and setting it down on the coffee table.

Clint turned to look at Steve, trying to make sure that Bucky couldn't see his mouth. "Later," he mouthed, trying to look serious. "Not now."

Steve was back to growling under his breath, but when Tony looped a hand under his elbow and started him back out of the door, he went. 

Great. Clint was going to have to deal with _both_ an angry supersoldier and a heavily traumatized one. At least it looked like he was going to have an ally in Tony, so it could be worse. 

The tray was all finger food, and easily digestible, which made sense. God only knew what Bucky had been living on while in the wind. "Don't worry about it right now, Bucky," Clint said, trying to make his voice soft and gentle. "How about you eat, and then by the time you get done the bed will be here."

Bucky's eyes were flickering from the food to Clint's face, but he made no move to take any of it. Clint wondered if even eating had been controlled by Bucky's "handlers". God, he was never going to feel clean when saying that word again. "Bucky, can you eat? You have permission to eat any time you feel like it, anything that's in the kitchen. But right now, there's a whole tray of food specifically for you."

There was a tense silence, and then Bucky's hand came up slowly, picking up a carrot stick and carefully taking it to his mouth, as if he expected to have it smacked away at any second. Clint kept his body relaxed and at ease, and just said, "Good, Bucky - eat as much as is comfortable, but not too fast." 

Glancing in the two cups on the tray, he found water in one and orange juice in the other. He put straws in both. "You're probably dehydrated, too. Try to drink at least the water, okay?"

Hesitantly, Bucky nodded, and he started to eat just a little faster, seemingly gaining confidence as Clint murmured approval of what he was doing. It wasn't really words - just the low rumble of a pleased Alpha - but Bucky turned towards it like a sunflower towards the warmth of sunlight. 

Bucky had cleaned about half the plate when there was a knock at the door. Motioning at Bucky to keep eating, Clint went to check the door and found a whole group of delivery men carrying a variety of furniture. Clint directed them to the second bedroom and supervised as they set up the bed, and a dresser and desk. 

They had also brought bedding and made up the bed with a selection of pillows. The sheets were grey and red, Clint noted. Tony's sense of humor, no doubt.

After they unpacked a few boxes of basic clothing, the room looked almost lived in. Clint looked forward to encouraging Bucky to make his own mark on it. Even if he didn't end up staying for long, Clint wanted to make him feel as much at home as he could. 

When he tried to tip them, he was waved off, and they left the apartment. The total time they were there was about ten minutes. Once again, Clint couldn't help but admire the kind of prompt service that could be bought when you had the kind of money that Tony did.

Going back over to where Bucky still knelt, he frowned when he realized that he hadn't eaten any more. "Are you full, Bucky?" he asked.

After a brief hesitation, Bucky answered, "I've eaten enough, sir."

Enough? Enough for what? Clint doubted that Hydra had ever allowed Bucky to get as many calories as he actually needed. Putting a little Alpha dominance into his voice, he said, "I didn't ask if you'd had enough. I asked if you were actually full."

There was an internal struggle clear on Bucky's face. "I - I - I've eaten enough for full functioning, sir."

It still wasn't an actual answer, but he didn't want to push too hard. So Clint backed down. "How about a shower? And then a nap for a while - you look like you haven't slept in a week."

Bucky nodded. "If you say so, sir. I can shower." 

Clint noticed that there was more tension in Bucky's body again, but Clint wasn't sure what had triggered it. He didn't want to push more unless he had to, so he just said, "There's soap and shampoo in there already, and I'll get you a towel. Is there anything else you need?"

With a quick headshake, Bucky rolled smoothly to his feet. Clint wanted to take him by the hand and guide him, but instead just directed him to head to the bathroom while going to the linen closet and picking out the biggest, softest towels he owned. He also swung by Bucky's room and found a set of soft sweats and some underwear and socks, leaving them all in a pile outside the bathroom door.

Knocking on the bathroom door, he said loudly enough for Bucky to hear, "Your towels and stuff are on the floor out here. Grab them before you get in the shower. Take as long as you want - we don't run out of hot water here."

Before Bucky could open the door, Clint moved away, going to tidy away the remains of Bucky's snack. He frowned at the amount of food left on the plate - Bucky had barely eaten enough to keep a normal person going, much less a supersoldier - but he carefully covered it and put it in the refrigerator, along with the orange juice. Maybe he'd be able to convince him to eat more after a nap.

Then he sat on the couch, listened to the shower run, and let himself think about the events of today. He'd never taken an Omega before - after seeing the relationship between his parents, it wasn't something he'd been interested in. While he'd been in a variety of relationships over the years, it was usually with Betas, and his longest had actually been with Phil, who had been another Alpha. _That_ had gotten them some strange looks out in the world, even if SHIELD hadn't cared.

He wasn't completely certain why he'd volunteered if he was going to be honest with himself. While he was Steve's and Tony's teammate and friend, taking an unplanned for, unknown, probably highly traumatized Omega in was going above and beyond. But he could see in his mind's eye, Bucky, standing at the reception desk for the tower. His hands had been in the air, his eyes had been downcast, and the sheer desperation radiating off of him had been obvious. Clint could no more resist that need than he could abandon his bow.

The shower cut off, far too quickly as far as Clint was concerned, and moments later, Bucky stepped out. He had barely dried off, which was obvious because he was nude. Quickly, Clint looked above his waist and noticed his hair was still dripping a little. "Uh..." he got out, a little strangled. 

"Do you want to check me for damage?" Bucky asked, and his voice was soft and innocent and so, so tempting. 

Clint remembered clearly that Bucky had denied needing medical attention, but it was possible that he'd lied, so Clint stood up and went to where Bucky stood right outside the bathroom. "Are you injured, Bucky?" he asked again. 

Shaking his head, Bucky said, "No, I'm fully functional."

Clint thought to himself that he was going to get really fucking tired of those words. 

Keeping his eyes locked on Bucky's face, he resisted the urge to touch. "Is there a reason I shouldn't believe you when you say you don't need medical?"

"Handlers usually want to confirm for themselves," Bucky answered, his voice back to being flat and unemotional.

The thought that flashed through Clint's head was so disturbing that he couldn't speak for a long moment. "You - this exam. Did it involve you being..." _raped_ was the word in his head, but he didn't want to be that blunt. Given what he was seeing from Bucky, he probably wouldn't understand that word in connection with himself. "...Sexually available to your handlers?"

Bucky shook his head, and the sudden relief made Clint light-headed. He tuned back in to catch, " - the Asset needed to be available for missions. Pregnancy would interfere with that."

Of course. Not because it would be wrong, but because it would make Bucky less than "fully functional." Clint wanted to snarl in anger, but he was afraid it would scare Bucky. Then he realized that in addition to being wet and naked, Bucky was shivering. "Bucky, did you take a warm shower?"

Bucky's eyes grew wide and he flinched back. "N-no, sir. I didn't waste the hot water. It was cold, I promise!"

If Clint ever got his hands on any of the people responsible for Bucky's "conditioning", he was going to beat them to death. But he tried really hard not to let his anger show. "Bucky, you don't have to take cold showers. In fact, I'd rather you take warm ones."

Once again, Bucky looked lost and confused.

He wasn't going to be able to explain this right now, he didn't think. Next time. He grabbed Bucky's clothes off the floor and gently motioned for him to follow.

Looking confused, Bucky went to the door of what Clint was already thinking of as "Bucky's room," only to stop right at the doorway. He wavered on his feet a little, and Clint moved up to wrap a hand around Bucky's flesh bicep. "You okay, there?" he asked.

"I don't - will I be sharing the room with another asset?" Bucky asked.

"You're not an asset, Bucky. You're your own person and this is _your_ room. I won't even come in unless you ask me to."

Bucky turned his head, and for the first time met Clint's eyes full on without Clint having to initiate it. "But sir, I - I don't need all of this. I don't _understand_."

Clint's heart broke a little at the confusion in his voice. Once again, he wanted nothing more than to kill everyone in Hydra. Not exactly a new feeling, to be honest, but now it was because of what they'd done to Bucky, not just because they were fuckheads. "Bucky, it has nothing to do with your abilities or what you need to be functional. It's what you _deserve_ as a human being. You don't have to earn it, and it's not going to be taken away." 

Hesitantly, Bucky stepped into the room, only to stop right on the other side of the doorway. Then he started to back out, fast enough that Clint had to move quickly so that Bucky wouldn't collide with him. "I can't," he said. "I can't."

"You can't what, Bucky?" Clint asked. He was no longer having to work at ignoring Bucky's nudity - he was more concerned about the pain on his face. "What can't you do?"

"I haven't - I don't need a room. I can - I should be guarding you. That's what I should be doing. I can't do that if I'm in a different room."

Jesus. Clint's head was full of questions that he didn't have the first idea how to voice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Somewhere, Fury was laughing and he didn't even know why because in some ways, Bucky reminded Clint of himself, only he hadn't just been completely lost, he'd been angry.

He almost wished Bucky would get angry. 

"Okay," Clint said, trying hard to stay calm. "Let's start with this. Dry off and put on your sweats. You can do that right here - you don't have to go into the room if you're not ready to."

Clearly relieved to have explicit instructions, Bucky nodded. He briskly rubbed down with the towel he was still holding, showing no modesty or that he even noticed his own nudity. He wasn't completely dry when he set down the towel, but he was at least no longer dripping as he pulled on the sweats.

"That's good, Bucky. Are those comfortable?"

Bucky was stroking the sleeve over his metal arm with his flesh fingers, a look of amazement on his face. "So soft," he murmured.

"Yeah, Bucky, " Clint said. "Tony gets us the best stuff. Now, I'm not going to make you sleep in here if you don't want to, even though it's absolutely yours if you want it. But you do have to lie down for a while. Where would you like to do that? Would you be more comfortable if you were on the sofa?"

Still stroking the sleeve of his shirt, Bucky was staring at the floor. He shrugged with one shoulder. "Where are you going to be?" he asked, his voice so, so young.

Clint thought fast. He hadn't really had a plan for himself beyond watching some TV while Bucky napped, maybe making some homemade soup for dinner. "I'm going to sit on the sofa and watch TV. Do you want to lie down next to me?" The sofa was going to be a little short for Bucky to stretch out on, but -

"I'll be fine on the floor, sir," Bucky said, and then he stepped back, clearly making space for Clint to lead the way.

Fuck. Fucking fuck on a fuck stick. Clint didn't know how to approach this, but Bucky needed to rest before anything more was thrown at him. So he walked over to the sofa, sat down at one end, and watched as Bucky sunk to his knees only a few feet away and then lay down, curling awkwardly into a ball. Clint grabbed one of the throw pillows and the blanket that was draped across the back of the sofa, and handed them down to Bucky. "Here. At least use these."

"Thank you, sir," Bucky said, and the sheer amount of gratitude for these tiny comforts went and stabbed Clint right in the heart. 

Within moments, Bucky's breathing had evened out, and he looked and sounded asleep. Clint flipped on the tv, silently thanking JARVIS for having had the foresight to mute it before it could make a sound and wake Bucky back up. He put on an old episode of CSI and let it wash across the screen as he tried to think of how he should deal with this.

He wasn't sure he could, or even if he should. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Tony to ask about therapy for Bucky, and got back an answer of _One second_ within moments. There was a wait of several minutes, and then the little texting bubble was lit up for what seemed like a long time, and Clint waited impatiently. 

_They wanted to dictate the therapist. I told them where to stuff it. I've got a word in to Sam to find us a counselor who has extensive experience dealing with torture and PTSD. He said he should have a couple of names for us in a day or two, and then it's going to take a couple more to make sure that at least one can get the clearance they need for this. Why?_

Clint took substantially longer to type out his response, filling Tony in on everything from Bucky's refusal to eat until full to the cold shower to the sleeping on the floor. He knew he was violating Bucky's privacy, but he needed advice on how to deal with this so that he didn't make a bad situation worse.

_You don't want to hear this, but for now, keep giving options but be ready to just play along. This is going to need a professional to untangle._ Tony's response was unsurprising, but not what Clint wanted. God _dammit_.

He thought to himself for a split second that he could just admit that he couldn't do this. No one would judge him for it, he knew, and Steve would step in. But then they were back to it probably breaking Steve's bond with Tony, the damage that would do to the team, and mostly, his shame at failing to care for an Omega who needed this much help.

He couldn't turn his back on Bucky, not even if he wanted to. And when he thought about that soft, lost look on his face, he didn't want to. It had done more to awaken every Alpha instinct he had than any number of in-heat Omegas he'd been around over the years.

Play along. Don't push. Wait until Bucky saw the psych, and then get as much advice as he could. That was a plan. It wasn't a plan he liked, but it was a plan.

Clint could do this. He was an Alpha and a superhero. He could do this. He had to. He would.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint runs headfirst into a bunch of triggers and responses that have been trained into Bucky, and it's all he can do not go find something to kill.

The next morning, his phone dinged, waking him up from an awkward position on the sofa. He opened his eyes, a little disoriented, only to see Bucky about a foot away, kneeling patiently, and he nearly fell off the sofa in shock. He'd honestly thought that it had just been a really weird dream.

Clint set his phone aside without looking to check in on Bucky first. Bucky's hair was a rat's nest, probably due to sleeping on it wet, and there were creases on his cheek. From the look on his face, he hadn't been awake very long. "Did you eat, Bucky?" Clint asked.

Bucky shook his head, his eyes cast downward in that goddamn perfect posture. "Okay, well, let's go see what I have in the kitchen to feed us with."

He rolled to his feet, feeling every bump and spring in the sofa cushions. He should have let Tony replace it when he wanted to, but the sofa was one of the few things Clint still had from sharing an apartment with Phil. Hell on his back to sleep on it, though.

Not turning around he headed towards the kitchen, the skin on the back of his neck prickling. Clint only looked back when he got to the kitchen and realized that Bucky wasn't there. He was still kneeling next to the couch, looking confused. "Bucky?" he called. "Are you coming?"

"I - I - " Bucky stuttered out. Clint knew the words "fully functional" were coming. He could feel it. 

"I don't need to eat. I'm fully functional from the meal last night."

Clint really hated being right sometimes. 

He didn't want to order Bucky to the kitchen, but Bucky needed to eat. Fine rope to walk. Time to see if he still had any of his circus skills. "That may be, but I'm hungry and it's easier to cook for two. Come in here and keep me company, please?"

Bucky's face smoothed out, and he rolled to his feet, moving a lot looser than Clint would have after a night on the floor. Padding over to the kitchen, he stood at the breakfast bar, looking uncertain. "Eggs or cereal? Or I could make pancakes, I think..." Clint said, pretending that Bucky didn't look like he'd rather get tortured than eat breakfast. "What's your preference?"

When he glanced over, Bucky was chewing his lip, hard, and it took everything Clint had not to tell him to stop before he hurt himself. 

"Bucky, if you want something, I'm happy to make it. You just have to tell me," Clint coaxed.

"Eggs?" Bucky's voice was a ragged whisper, and his eyes were so wide he looked like he was an innocent twenty, not a battle-hardened ninety-something. 

"Yeah, I have eggs," Clint said, thrilled to get that much reaction. "Do you like them fried, scrambled... well, those are really the only ways I know how to make them, so which will it be?"

Silence from Bucky, and his shoulders were by his ears again. _Too much, too fast, Barton_ Clint thought, and tried again. "I'm going to have mine scrambled with some cheese. Would you like that?"

Bucky nodded so hard he looked like he was in danger of his head popping off. 

"Great. So - " he reached into the fridge and pulled out eggs, cheese, and butter. Pointing Bucky towards the toaster, he told him to make a couple of pieces for each while he scrambled eggs and made coffee.

He kept an eye on him quietly, but it only took Bucky about thirty seconds to figure out the mechanism of the toaster. When he stopped after two pieces, Clint tossed out "Don't forget toast for me, too," and Bucky quickly dropped in two more slices of bread.

Faster than he thought possible, he had scrambled eggs on plates - most of them on the one for Bucky - and two mugs of coffee. "Bucky, are you willing to sit at the bar?" he asked.

Bucky hesitated for a moment and then slowly moved to one of the high stools. Clint was so pleased he could have high-fived himself, only to realize that Bucky was pulling it out for Clint. "I can stand here?" Bucky asked, his voice rising a little. Well, it was an improvement over him kneeling on the floor, Clint guessed.

"All right," Clint agreed, setting down the plates and then grabbing the coffee. He started to sit down, only to remember that he'd gotten a text. "You start eating, I'll be right back," he said, going to grab his phone off the couch.

He wasn't surprised that Bucky hadn't touched his food or his coffee when he got back, but he was so close to the bar he was practically drooling on it. Clint hurriedly sat down, pointed at Bucky's plate, and said, "Okay, go ahead and eat, please."

Clint made a point of looking at his phone while eating his own portion of eggs and toast. Bucky practically inhaled the whole plate but left the mug sitting on the countertop. "That's yours, too," he said, pointing at the mug. Bucky picked it up, glanced inside, and then set it down again, shrugging. "Okay, so not a coffee drinker," he said. "You still have orange juice in the fridge. Why don't you get that?"

While Bucky did as Clint had asked, he read Tony's text again. He had a bad feeling about going to the lab, but he couldn't put it into words. So he texted that they'd be down in a little while, and watched as Bucky drained the glass of juice. "Do you want some water?" he asked. "You're probably still dehydrated."

Bucky went to the sink to fill the glass, and Clint could have cheered at. It wasn't much, but Bucky had done something for himself without explicit instructions. That was worth cheering about.

He didn't want to leave Bucky alone, but he desperately needed to clean up. He sent Bucky to the hall bathroom to brush his teeth and hair, and retired back to the master bath for a fast as hell shower. He ignored the way that his body kept trying to react to Bucky's submissive Omega behaviors - that was part of his lizard brain and he was going to ignore it if it killed him.

By the time he came back out, Bucky was kneeling next to the sofa again, but his hair was in better shape and Clint felt ready to face the unknown of Tony's lab. That place was crazy to him, and he hadn't had his brain fucked with for seventy years. "Okay, Bucky, we need to go visit Tony." He realized that Bucky was still in his socks, and said, "Bucky, can I go in your room to get you some shoes?"

Bucky blinked at him for a moment, "It's fine?" he said, his voice rising in a confused question. Clint was going to take the fact that he didn't argue about it being Bucky's room as a win, though. He went in, grabbed a pair of sneakers from the closet, and came right back out, handing them over.

As soon as he was ready, Clint said, "Well, let's get this over with," and headed towards the door. He sensed more than heard Bucky following along behind him, and he led the way to the elevator and then down to Tony's lab in the basement.

Tony's lab always looked like something out of a mad scientist's dream to Clint, but at least it was clean and well lit. The door opened as they approached, and JARVIS said, "Hello Agent Barton, Sergeant Barnes. Sir is waiting for you."

Two steps inside the door, Bucky froze like a deer in headlights. His breathing was speeding up, rasping in his chest, and Clint reached out to him, trying to calm him, but his touch only seemed to make it worse. "Bucky? Bucky, what's wrong?"

"Please don't. Please, please don't. I'll be good. Don't make me forget again. I'll be good," Bucky was muttering, a high-pitched whine behind his words. Clint acted before he really thought, taking Bucky by the shoulders and pushing him back out of the door. "Tony!" he called as they cleared the doorway, and this time, when Bucky went down, Clint wasn't fast enough to stop him. 

He huddled up on his knees, and Clint crouched down next to him, his hands hovering uncertainly. He wasn't completely sure what the hell was going on, and he certainly didn't want to make it any worse.

Tony's footsteps approached slowly, and then more quickly. "What the hell, Clint?" Tony asked as he came up on Bucky's other side. Bucky was still whining, but there weren't any more distinguishable words in the sound.

"I don't know," Clint said, his own breathing starting to be just as panicky. "He was fine and then we got to the lab and this started."

Tony swore, long and creatively. "I'll bet labs figure pretty heavily in his nightmares. I should have thought of that." He crouched down and gently touched Bucky on the shoulder. "You don't have to go in, Sergeant. You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to go,"

Bucky flinched away from Tony's gentle hand, and not knowing what else to do, Clint placed his own hand on the back of Bucky's neck, a soft touch that he'd seen between other Alpha/Omega couples. For a moment, it didn't seem to do anything, and then slowly the whining stopped, Bucky's breathing slowed, and the panic drained away from his face.

As he calmed, Clint was able to calm down as well, and when Bucky seemed to be breathing more steadily, Clint started to move his hand, only to have Bucky immediately tense up again. Looking at Tony in a panic, Clint grasped Bucky's neck again. 

"Clint, we're going to have to do the exam somewhere else. I don't think we're going to be able to get Bucky into the lab without hurting him," Tony said, his voice steady. "I don't think doing it in your apartment would be a good idea either. Are you willing to take him to the media room? It's private enough for this, without any of the lab overtones."

Right now, Clint thought he'd be willing to take Bucky to the moon if it meant that he'd calm down more, so he nodded. Standing back up, he and Tony gently helped Bucky back to his feet. "Sergeant, Clint's going to take you to the team common area. I have to check over your arm, but we're not going to do it here. I just need to get a few things and then I'll meet you there."

Bucky didn't seem terribly steady, but Clint grasped him by the forearm and tugged him over to the elevator. "JARVIS, is there anyone in the common room?" he asked as the elevator door closed. 

"I'm afraid the rest of the team is there, Agent Barton," JARVIS responded.

Fuck. There was no way to the media room without going through the common room. "Do you think you could ask everyone to step out for a few minutes?" he asked, wanting to get Bucky some privacy when he was so clearly upset.

There was a pause as the elevator went up several more floors, and then JARVIS said, "Everyone but Captain Rogers has left the room," JARVIS said.

On the one hand, it might be good to have Steve there, Clint thought. On the other, it had the potential to blow up even further. Oh, well, they were going to have to deal with this sooner or later. Moments later, the door opened, and yeah, he was going to have to deal with a worried Steve, because the fucker was waiting right by the elevator door, his face twisted up in anger and pain. 

Before Steve could say or do anything, Bucky twitched under Clint's hand, just once, and then brought his metal arm up, pressing it into Steve's chest and pushing him back and away. He didn't seem angry or upset - more like he was just clearing an obstacle.

Steve was clearly caught off guard and didn't even begin to struggle, just backing up as fast as Bucky was pushing. Finally, Clint's brain caught up to the situation, and he barked out, "Bucky, stop!"

Instantly, Bucky froze, his arm still pressed to Steve's chest, but no longer pushing him backward. Clint hurried forward, wrapping his hand around Bucky's metal wrist and urging it down. "It's okay, Bucky. He's not going to hurt you."

The look that Bucky turned towards Clint was confused. "Not me. My primary duty is to protect my handler unless another order supersedes that, and he is clearly angry."

Goddamn son of a whore. The next Hydra cell that they went up against, Clint was going to take apart with his bare hands. "He's not angry at me," Clint said, working hard to keep his voice soft and calm. "I'm in no danger from Steve. Right, Steve?"

Steve looked as shaken as Clint felt, his hands up in the air as if to make himself look less threatening. "No, I'm not going to hurt Clint, Bucky. I just wanted to make sure that _you're_ okay."

"I am fully functional," Bucky said.

Steve's eyes shot over to Clint, who knew that a later wasn't going to work right now. But he wanted to get them out of the common space before someone else came in and complicated things even more. "Steve, we're going to the media room. Do you want to come with us?"

"Absolutely," Steve said. 

Clint shifted his grip on Bucky's arm to something that was less of a restraint, leading him to the rarely used home theater. It wasn't big enough for the whole team plus various hangers-on who spent time in the tower, so it sat empty 95% of the time. But it did have comfortable couches, and this time Clint didn't give Bucky a chance to kneel - he pushed him gently down on one of them.

When Bucky looked like he was going to slide right off it, Clint said, "Bucky, I need you to stay up here for a little while. I'm going to stay standing, so you're still below me, okay? But Tony _has_ to look at your arm, and he's going to have a hard time if you're on the floor. So I need you to stay right where you are."

"You're sure?" Bucky's voice was a bare thread, laced with a terror so strong that Clint could practically taste it.

"I'm sure," Clint said. "You're not going to get in trouble with me, or with anyone, for sitting on the sofa. Just sit here and breathe, just for a minute, okay?"

Bucky nodded shakily, his hair falling forward over his face. 

"Good, Bucky. Good job." Clint rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently, until Tony came into the room, carrying a toolbag practically as big as he was.

"I think I have everything I might possibly need," Tony said. "If Hydra left a surprise in the arm I should be able to deal with it here so that he doesn't have to come into the lab at all."

"Okay," Clint said. He crouched down, consciously keeping his head at least a few inches above Bucky's. "Bucky? Tony is going to examine your arm. He's going to tell you what he's doing, and I'm going to be over right by the door, but in the room. I know you probably don't want this, but we have to do it, okay? Can you do that for me?"

Bucky was back to chewing on his lip but he nodded. "Thank you," Clint said, impulsively pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. Before he could second guess himself too much, he pulled away and said, "Right over there, okay, Bucky? And if you need me, just say my name."

"Yes, Handler Barton," and no, no, no.

"No, Bucky. It's just Clint," Clint said, putting a bit of Alpha force behind the words.

Bucky jerked a little, but then he said, "Clint," like he was rolling the word around inside his mouth to see how it felt before he nodded.

"Good," Clint said again, and headed towards the door, saying, "Let's go, Steve." The two of them were just far enough that he'd have to strain to hear what Bucky was saying to Tony. He locked his eyes on Bucky and Tony, but most of his attention was on Steve. 

"Go ahead, Steve. Let's have it," he said, sure that he was about to get reamed out in whispers.

He almost fell over in shock when Steve said, "You're doing good, Clint," and for a split second he glanced at Steve's face, seeing no sign that he was being sarcastic.

"How the hell do you figure?" Clint asked a little bitterly. "He just attacked you because I didn't explain what was happening well enough."

"You also stopped him without hurting him or using unfair tactics," Steve said. "This isn't - I can't imagine this is easy. Bucky was stubborn, even before the war. Not as bad as me, but still... And everything they did to him, I bet in some ways that made it worse. And it was hard for me to adjust to how different everything was when I got out of the ice. He's been out more, but he's had those old standards beaten into him, I'll bet. You're doing a good job," Steve said once again. 

Clint wanted to argue that it hadn't even been twenty-four hours and it was clear that he was hopelessly out of his depth, but when he glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye, it was obvious that Steve was being sincere. "Uh, thanks?" he said uncertainly. "I'm trying, anyway."

"Clint, you knew this wasn't going to be simple when you volunteered because, contrary to what you like to pretend, you're smart. You did it anyway, and you prevented me from... well, you kept me from making what would have been a big mistake. I have clear memories of Bucky as he was, and every time he behaved differently from what I thought he should do, it would have torn at both of us." Steve took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's probably best that Bucky is paired with someone who doesn't know him. And I trust you to take care of him."

He couldn't help it - he turned to stare full-on at Steve, incredulous. Then he realized - "Tony talked to you last night, didn't he?"

Steve chuckled a little painfully, "If by 'talked' you mean 'lectured incessantly until I saw his point of view, even unwillingly', then yes, we talked. But it doesn't really matter, because he's right."

There was a soft sound from where Tony was working on Bucky's arm, and Clint looked over. Bucky's head was hanging low, and the metal arm was braced on the arm of the sofa, a panel open. From the movement of Bucky's shoulders, he seemed to be struggling to stay still. Clint immediately left Steve's side and approached the sofa, trying to come from the side so that he didn't startle either of the two men. "Bucky, you okay?"

Bucky's voice was breathless as he uttered what was rapidly becoming Clint's most hated phrase. "I am fully - ah - functional, sir."

"Tony?" Clint asked, knowing that he'd get the unvarnished truth from him.

"I'm 99% sure that there are no bombs in here," Tony said. "There are several other weapons, however, and they seem to be directly tied to Bucky's nervous system. I - " his fingers twitched, and Bucky gave a shudder and suddenly fell silent, slumping over to one side. 

Clint no longer held back, rushing the last few feet to Bucky's side. Tony already had his spare hand at Bucky's throat, and he met Clint's eyes evenly. "He's fine, just passed out. I found what seemed to be a kill switch for the arm, and was trying to disable it."

"Can you actually do this here?" Clint said. "I don't want to risk you getting hurt, or inflicting more pain on him if we can avoid it."

"Now that he's passed out it'll be easier," Tony said, his fingers busy inside the mechanism of the arm. "It'll only take me a moment more... JARVIS, have you got this?"

"Yes, Sir," JARVIS responded, and then a 3D image of the arm was projected down from the ceiling. Tony removed his fingers from inside Bucky's arm, and Clint realized that he was holding some sort of small device in his fingers. 

"Scanner. JARVIS can analyze this faster than I can," Tony said. "JARVIS, first, confirm the lack of explosives?"

"Confirmed, sir. There are no substances in the arm that are capable of explosion in their current form."

Even Clint knew that that was a weird way to phrase it, but before he could say anything, Tony had already said, "Are there substances capable of explosion if combined?"

There was a momentary pause, and then JARVIS said, "Technically, yes. But I see no way for that to happen without major direct physical interference with Sergeant Barnes' arm. There doesn't appear to be any way to trigger such a combination remotely, or by Sergeant Barnes himself."

"You said weapons," Steve said, and Clint whipped around to look at him. He hadn't even heard Steve come up behind him. "What kind of weapons?"

"Looks like a laser, and then there are several physical weapons in recesses in the arm - a garrote and a couple of knives. I can disable the laser and remove the physical weapons without disabling the arm entirely. I don't think I can do anything about the kill switch without hurting him, though."

Bucky was starting to stir, and Clint wasn't sure if what they were discussing was going to hurt him more, so he made a snap judgment. "Do what you can to disable the weapons as fast as you can, Tony," he said. "I want it done before he wakes up."

Tony snorted, his nimble fingers already working. "You and me both, Legolas. It's only going to take me another couple of minutes..." His voice trailed off, and Clint waited in tense silence, hoping that Bucky didn't wake up until Tony was done.

For once, he seemed to get his wish, as Tony had removed two knives from insets in Bucky's forearm and the garrote from a fingertip, and was closing up the panel in Bucky's arm as he started to stir. He woke slowly, whimpering quietly, and Clint gently laid his hand on the back of his neck, squeezing lightly. "All done, Bucky. You're all done."

Bucky seemed groggy and only barely aware of his surroundings for a long moment. Clint could almost see the moment it wore off, because Bucky snapped into sudden wariness, eyes darting around the room. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, his voice tight.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Clint said at the same time that Tony said, "It's fine, Barnes. You're doing fine."

Bucky glanced between the two of them, and then slid off the sofa to his knees, back into that perfect Omega posture. "I'm ready, sir," he said, his voice thin and tight.

"Ready for what?" Clint asked, pretty sure that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"I'm ready to be punished for dereliction of duty." 

The fuck? "What do you mean, dereliction?" Clint asked, confused and frustrated.

Tony spoke up. "He means that he thinks he should have been able to stay awake through what I just did, even though that piece of shit arm was specifically designed to cause him pain when it was worked on."

Bucky jerked at Tony's harsh words but then gave a tiny, ashamed nod.

Before Clint could formulate a response, Tony had shifted around so that he was directly in front of Bucky, crouched down eye-to-eye. "Bucky, there are no punishments in this tower. Not for this, not for wanting something for yourself, not for voicing an opinion. I told you once before, I may be an Omega, but I make the rules here. Do you remember I said that?"

Bucky nodded again, faint shivers running through him. 

"Then remember that the only responsibility you have right now is to focus on getting better, okay? Clint is going to help you, take care of you, but he's sure as shit not going to _punish_ you. I guarantee it."

"How?" Bucky's voice was a tiny whisper. "You're - he's - he's an Alpha and I'm wearing his collar. He can do anything he likes to me."

Clint swallowed back sudden nausea at the words. Crouching down next to Tony, he said, "No, Bucky, I can't. Hydra may have thought that way, but we don't. Omegas have rights. Once we get you working with a therapist long enough to make sure there aren't any triggers in your head, you don't even have to keep my collar if you don't want to. You're free, Bucky, I swear."

Bucky's flesh hand came up to drag across the leather at his throat, but his hair hid his eyes from Clint. Clint wanted to push it back so that he could get a better gauge of what was going on in Bucky's head, but Bucky just nodded once again. "As you say," he said, and the disbelief was obvious.

"I do say, and I've got both Iron Man and Captain America here to keep me honest," Clint said, trying for cheerful insistence. He hoped that Bucky couldn't hear the desperation that he was trying to hide. "Bucky, I promise, you're safe. That's why you came here, right? Because you were looking for somewhere safe?"

This time the nod was a little more sure.

"Then trust me, just a little, okay? I'm not going to punish you, I'm not going to let you _be_ punished. Right now, I'm going to offer you a choice. Would you like to meet the other members of the team or go back to our apartment? No wrong answer, no punishment, no tricks. Just what would you like?"

" _Our_ apartment?" Bucky asked, and his voice sounded a lot like hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has his first therapy session and then some bonding time with the other Omegas in the building.

They didn't leave the apartment for the next several days as Clint waited for a therapist to be found to work with Bucky. It became more and more obvious that Hydra had used Bucky's status as a weapon against him, and Clint struggled to make sure that he felt safe, and encouraged any sign of independent thinking or choices.

Steve and Tony were in and out of Clint's quarters frequently, bringing food and technology in equal measures. Clint noticed that Bucky watched both of them curiously from behind the curtain formed by his hair. Interestingly, he seemed more focused on Tony than Steve.

The two of them reacted very differently to Bucky's curiosity. Steve kept starting to make comments or ask questions, only to cut himself off before he could finish the thought. There was pain in his eyes as he watched Bucky, and it tore at Clint. Clint wanted to give Steve his friend back, but after living with Bucky, he didn't think he was ever going to get that.

On the other hand, Bucky's fascination with Tony was obvious and almost painful to watch. From his few volunteered questions, it was clear that he didn't understand why Steve "allowed" Tony such freedom. For his part, Tony pretended an obliviousness that was completely faked. Clint kept catching him eyeing Bucky when Bucky was looking away.

While their relationship was one of equals, generally Tony did let Steve take the lead in most things. In Clint's apartment, though, he took every opportunity to give subtle orders and instructions to Steve, orders that Steve followed.

When they weren't there, Bucky was mostly silent. Clint had persuaded him that the contents of the second bedroom were for Bucky's use, and he'd go in to fetch clothing, but he flat refused to sleep in the room, much less in the bed. After a second night on the couch, Clint had decided that turning himself into a pretzel wasn't going to fix the situation, so he'd been sleeping in his bed. His sleep wasn't great, though, because Bucky was having nightmares every night - a fact that Clint knew because Bucky had taken it upon himself to sleep on the floor directly outside Clint's bedroom. He'd tried fruitlessly to convince Bucky to sleep in his own bed, and failing that, tried to get him to let Clint put a mattress down, but Bucky insisted that the floor was good enough.

The first night that he'd woken to the soft sounds of Bucky in the throes of something that even _sounded_ horrific, he had to fight the urge to pull Bucky into the safety of his arms, to hold him tight and reassure him that those days were far behind him now. He didn't know if that physical intervention would be a good idea, so he held back.

Three nights later, the only thing stopping him from breaking was the fact that Bucky had a joint appointment with both a psychiatrist and a social worker first thing in the morning. The WSC insisted that a medical doctor evaluate whether or not Bucky needed to be on some sort of psych meds. Clint's gut reaction was that those types of meds weren't going to be a good idea for Bucky, but he fought to keep an open mind. He knew that he viewed shrinks with suspicion due to his own experience, and that Sam would have done a good job of picking someone out who wouldn't just drug Bucky into compliance.

As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling and hearing Bucky whimper at the door, he wondered if maybe he should beg for some for himself.

In the morning, barely rested, he chivied both of them through breakfast and his coffee, and into presentable clothes before escorting Bucky to the designated conference room two floors down. Bucky looked anxious, his hands convulsively tightening into fists over and over again, his shoulders up by his ears. "It'll be fine," Clint said, trying to be reassuring, and not let his own distrust of the world of psychology show through. "They'll be able to help you."

Bucky nodded, short and sharp. It was clear that he was acknowledging hearing Clint, not that he agreed. Before Clint could marshall any more arguments, they'd arrived at the door, and he opened it. Inside sat an older Omega man, swarthy enough to be Middle Eastern or Indian, and a slightly younger woman, one who was an Alpha. "I'll be right outside," he said, starting to close the door, only to have Bucky swing around, his eyes wide with fear. "Don't - don't go?" Bucky said, his voice a bare shadow of his normal volume. "Please, stay?"

Clint was shocked. This was the clearest request that Bucky had made since they'd been tied together, and there was no way that Clint was going to say no, so he stepped in, closing the door behind himself.

"Hello, Sergeant Barnes. I'm Fudail Abadi, and Sergeant Wilson contacted me to see if I'd take you on as a client. Why don't you come in and sit down?" The man's voice was low and pleasant, his accent faint enough that Clint couldn't quite nail it down beyond 'definitely Middle Eastern'. "This is Dr. Valente, she works at the VA here in New York, and Sergeant Wilson also requested her."

Bucky nodded, but his shoulders were so high it didn't look like he had a neck, and he was backing away from the table in slow, tiny steps. Clint didn't leave him hanging - he slid up behind Bucky and rested his hand on the back of Bucky's neck. It was still the one thing that Clint had found that reliably helped Bucky calm and relax when he was agitated. Both Abadi and Valente watched the exchange quietly, but their eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

When Bucky didn't say anything, Clint filled in the silence. "Hi. I'm Clint Barton - I'm Bucky's Alpha," he said firmly, as much reminding himself as Bucky. "I'm going to stay until he's comfortable."

"That's fine, Mister Barton," Dr. Valente said, her voice soft and low. "As his Alpha, you are of course allowed to attend his sessions unless he requests otherwise."

"Call me Clint," he said, gently pressing against Bucky's neck. It wasn't forceful enough to force him farther into the room, but he was trying to use it as a gentle guide.

"Clint," she corrected. "And may we call you Bucky?" she asked, her eyes on Bucky's.

He nodded slowly. 

"Okay, Bucky. Can you come in a little further? You don't have to come too much closer but I'd hate for us to have to shout to be heard?" Her voice, with its slight Mexican accent, was laced with good humor.

Bucky took three very measured steps forward, and then slowly, gracefully, went to his knees. Clint had been expecting it, and simply let his hand slide up through Bucky's hair to rest against the back of his head. He knew if he crouched down now, Bucky would get even more agitated.

Clint caught the glance between Valente and Abadi, and then Valente nodded, just slightly. Abadi spoke, "Bucky, you don't have to kneel here. As you can see, I'm an Omega and I'm seated."

"I- I - " Bucky stuttered, then swallowed and tried again. "I'm fine," he said.

"In that case," Dr. Valente said. "Can we sit down there with you?"

Bucky shook his head no. "Ah," Abadi said. "Alphas shouldn't sit on the floor?" 

Bucky nodded, seeming a little more sure of himself. 

"Well, then, she will stay in her chair and I will come kneel with you," he said, his voice still kind but a little firmer.

Bucky didn't respond, though he was tense under Clint's hand. Abadi stood up and took a few steps, going to his knees a few feet from Bucky. Clint was impressed - Abadi was positioned at an angle that allowed Bucky to focus entirely on him, while letting Dr. Valente have an unrestricted view of Bucky from her chair.

With Abadi on the floor as well, Bucky seemed a little more relaxed, though his posture didn't change at all. Slowly, Clint lifted his hand away, ready to put it back immediately if Bucky tightened up, but when he didn't, he took a step away. "Bucky, I'm not leaving," he said, making his voice reassuring. "I'm just going to go over to the chairs over there," he pointed at the ones along the wall, "and you're going to have a conversation with these folks, okay? Tell them - "

"Clint," Dr. Valente interrupted. "Bucky can tell us as much or as little as he wants. If he wants to just listen today, that's fine, too. Go ahead and have a seat." She never raised her voice or even gave him a harsh look, but there was no question in Clint's mind that at that moment, she was in charge of the nondescript conference room. 

Abadi - he told Bucky to call him Fudail - started by explaining his background. Clint immediately saw why Sam had suggested him - Fudail had been taken prisoner by the same group that had captured Tony just before he became Iron Man. He had been forced to work for them until a chance moment of inattention allowed him and several other Omegas to escape. He didn't go into detail about the force used - he didn't need to. There was clear pain in his voice that he didn't even try to hide.

As he listened, Bucky's strict posture started to relax and open up, his shoulders coming down, his spine curving a little bit. As Fudail finished his story with his arrival at an American military camp, he said to Bucky, "Of course, none of that compares to what I know of you. But perhaps, we might have some things in common, do you think?"

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes hidden behind his hair. Silence reigned in the room for what seemed to be an uncomfortably long time, but neither Fudail or Valente reacted, not even to fidget. Clint knew it was a technique to get someone to talk - it was one that Natasha used to great success. He was a little surprised when it seemed to work on Bucky as well. Slowly, gradually, he started to speak. It was just the basics - probably things that both of them already knew - but the fact that he was volunteering them made Clint want to cheer. 

Dr. Valente still didn't say anything, and she took no notes. She simply kept her hands folded in her lap and an eye on the two Omegas kneeling on the carpet. 

As Bucky finally drew to a stuttering halt with his arrival at the Avengers Tower, she nodded, as if it was exactly what she expected. "Bucky?" she asked, her voice soft but still enough to make him jump. "Do you have nightmares? My friend Fudail used to have them terribly."

Bucky started to shake his head no, then his eyes caught on Clint. Clint tried hard to maintain a neutral expression on his face, but something there got Bucky to say, "Yes, I do. I don't - I don't remember what they're about. Just cold, and lonely, and..." his voice trailed away.

"And you, Clint, did you know that Bucky had these nightmares?" she asked.

"Yes," Clint answered, and then before she could ask, he said, "I don't - I don't know what to do when he has them. I want to make them stop, make them better for him. He deserves good things. He deserves _all_ the good things he can be given," he said, surprising himself with just how much he meant that.

Fudail took the reins of the conversation again. "Do you know what helped with my nightmares?" he asked rhetorically. "Being with someone at night, so that I wasn't so alone. Are you sharing Clint's bed, Bucky?"

"No," Clint burst out. "I wouldn't - "

This time it was Fudail who interrupted. "Clint, if I may call you that, no one is meaning to impugn your honor. I was not asking if you were having sex with Bucky, though if he wanted that, it would be acceptable. But for Omegas, human contact is very important. And I suspect my friend Bucky would do well with a great deal more of it in his life."

The look on Bucky's face was hard to read. If Clint was forced to put a word to it, the only one he would have been able to come up with was "shame". 

Clint let that filter through his brain. Human contact - well, everyone benefited from that. And as long as he didn't initiate anything sexual, there were worse things than having a handsome Omega in his bed. "Bucky, is that something you want?"

Bucky's eyes were downcast, and he shrugged. Clint had spent enough time around his body language to know that Bucky wanted to nod, though, and made a snap decision to answer what he was reading versus what Bucky was actually saying.

"We can do that any time you want." Bucky's shoulders relaxed a bit more, and he nodded a tiny bit. Clint figured he'd pushed this far - he'd go a little farther. "But I'd prefer not to do it on the floor - do you think you could bring yourself to sleep in my bed? Or I could sleep in yours if you - "

Bucky interrupted. "Yours! I mean, yours, please. It smells like you. The other bed. The other bed smells empty."

Clint wasn't sure he got all the nuance there, but Fudail was nodding and smiling, so Clint said, "Then of course you can sleep in my bed."

Fudail glanced at the clock over the door. "Bucky, my friend, it has been a long time since I have knelt for this long, and I think we have laid a good start on some groundwork. If you find me acceptable, I will come and see you three times a week? And we can talk some more, and find other things we have in common."

Bucky was smiling; a tiny, shy thing, but it was there. "Okay. I - I would like that."

"See? Another thing we have in common already," Fudail said, smiling as well. "Dr. Valente?"

"Bucky, I'd like to prescribe Buspar for you. It is very mild, but should help with some of the anxiety that I suspect you're trying to hide. It won't take away your emotions, or keep you from feeling them, but might help you take a little step back from them so that you can see them for what they are."

Clint was waiting for Bucky to look at him for guidance and was more than a little surprised when he didn't. Bucky just said, "Okay. Will it stop the dreams?"

Her face was soft when she said, "Maybe a little, Bucky, but it's not a sleeping pill. If you have a nightmare, you'll be able to wake up and seek comfort from your Alpha, assuming that he is agreeable." The look she gave Clint said that this was something he had better not find disagreeable.

"Of course I want him to wake me if he needs me," Clint said. "I already wake - " he cut himself off but was a little too late.

"You already wake when Bucky is dreaming?" Dr. Valente said, her eyes peering at him keenly. 

"Yeah," Clint said. "I've wanted to do something for him since it started."

"Good, then we are all on the same page," Fudail said, a happy smile on his face. 

After a few minutes of arranging the next appointment with Dr. Valente - Bucky seemed relieved that she wasn't going to be at every session - and encouragement for either of them to call if they needed to, the two of them left the conference room.

Bucky wasn't exactly bouncing with joy, but he seemed thoughtful, without being withdrawn. "How do you feel, Bucky?" Clint asked.

"I'm not sure, si- Clint. I like Fudail, though."

"Good, I like him, too."

Clint was ready for Bucky to decide that he wanted to go back to their apartment, but he was surprised again when Bucky said, "The rest of the Avengers... am I allowed to meet them?"

"Of course you are," Clint answered instantly. Then he thought about how loud and rambunctious they all were when in the same place. "Maybe not all at once, though. How about I see if Natasha and Maria are free?"

Bucky nodded, and Clint used JARVIS to reach out to Natasha, who agreed to meet them in the common room. He'd wanted Bucky to meet them practically since the beginning, since Natasha was an Alpha, bonded to an Omega who also happened to be her superior officer. And Clint wanted Bucky to see that that was something that was allowed. If it wasn't exactly common - well, that didn't really matter, he didn't think. It was the possibility that he wanted Bucky to see.

They got to the common room where Natasha was finishing brewing up a pot of coffee in the old fashioned coffee pot kept up there specifically for Clint, because Tony found the type of coffee Clint preferred to be gross, and refused to let it in in any of his state of the art machines.

That was fine with Clint, because he figured he would just break one of them anyway. They had way too many fiddly knobs for him. "For me? You shouldn't have," he said, giving Natasha a side-hug and a respectful nod to Maria. "Director Hill," he said.

Bucky's voice was choked when he croaked out, "Director?" The expression on his face was one of someone whose brain had just broken.

"Yep, she's the deputy director of SHIELD," Natasha said, pressing a kiss to the side of Maria's head. Maria was far too self-possessed to do something as unseemly as blush, but she did give Natasha a tiny smile before turning her attention to Bucky.

"But, you're an Omega?" Bucky asked, as if his senses being fooled made more sense than an Omega in charge.

"Yes," she said simply, holding herself up straight, not trying to persuade him of anything. The tide came and went, the sky was blue, and she was the deputy director of SHIELD. These were all just facts.

Bucky looked between the two women, and then back at Clint, the confusion clear on his face. Clint figured an explanation was the least he could do. "Maria is Fury's right hand at SHIELD, and since Natasha and I are SHIELD agents, when we aren't being Avengers, she's also our boss. She's _also_ Natasha's Omega, but don't think that that means she lets Natasha boss her around in the field. It doesn't work that way."

When it became clear that Bucky was still confused, Natasha took mercy on him. "Who you love, and who you're compatible with, don't matter in the world as much anymore, Bucky," she said. "Maria and I love each other - except when Maria forgets to leave me any coffee - and so we make it work."

Bucky looked like his brain was about to explode. Maria sighed and took him gently by the hand, leading him over to the sofa. "Come here, Bucky. I'll see if I can help you understand." She looked over her shoulder at Natasha and Clint. "You two Alphas stand over here and talk about Alpha things and look pretty."

Natasha laughed, and Clint couldn't help but smile as Bucky followed in Maria's wake, settling on one of the couches at her urging. He didn't try to listen in - after being included in Bucky's therapy, he kind of felt like he should have someone to talk to privately, and Maria would be a good choice. She had no direct power over him, the way that Tony did, she wasn't an Alpha the way Steve and Clint and Natasha were - she might make a pretty good confidante if she was willing. And given the way that she was talking to him, she seemed to realize the same thing.

Clint chatted lazily with Natasha while watching Bucky and Maria. Maria was speaking quietly, and while Bucky didn't really seem to be saying much, he did seem to be paying attention to what Maria was saying. Clint was only distracted when Natasha poked him, hard, in the arm. "Hey, I use that," he said, rubbing the spot where he knew there'd be a bruise in a couple of hours.

"You were staring like some sort of creepy staring person," Natasha said, completely unrepentant. "Bucky's fine with Maria, and if he stops being fine, Maria will get us. It's time for him to start making some relationships with people other than you."

Clint could feel his face heating up. But rather than get defensive, he just sighed. "You know, when I thought this was just going to be in name only, I thought it would be easy. But Bucky - Bucky reminds me of why I always said I'd never take an Omega because I was afraid I'd turn out like my old man. Instead, I look at him and wonder how anyone could hurt an Omega like him or my mom? I just - he's so sweet, and he's trying _so hard_ and it just breaks my heart and makes me want to kill Hydra goons at the same time."

"Huh," Natasha said after a moment. "You know, I thought I was going to have to push you to see what was happening right in front of your face. Sounds like you're more in touch with yourself than I expected."

Clint chuckled a little. "Nah, I'm still mostly oblivious. It's just - some things came up in therapy, and it makes some of the things I've wanted to do _anyway_ seem like they're okay."

"You know if you hurt him, Rogers will murder you where you stand," Natasha said, but her voice was light as if she was just reminding him of something she knew that he already knew.

"Don't plan on it. But you know my plans usually suck and are out the window in the first five minutes anyway. You know Phil - Phil used to tease me about it. Said that when Delta resorted to my plans, hell was on its way to freezing over."

This time, the nudge to Clint's arm was a little gentler, but he still clutched it and glared at her. 

"I'm glad that you're getting over him, little bird. I know you loved each other, but he's gone, and he'd hate to know that you were stuck in some sort of stasis because of it."

Tears prickled the back of Clint's eyes, and he blinked them away. "Still love him, Natasha. But you're right. He'd be the first to kick my ass for not giving Bucky my very best effort. Even if he chooses to walk away when he's better, at least I can give him a safe place to recover in the meantime. It's the least I can do to pay it forward for Phil. He did the same for me when he first knew me."

Natasha smiled, a little dirty. "Doesn't hurt that he's pretty to look at, hmm?"

"Oh, shut it, Tash. I'm not even going there, not unless he wants to. And he's going to need a shit ton more therapy first, I think." Clint took a sip from his coffee. It had gone mostly cold and bitter, but he actually liked it better that way. "Anyway, enough about me and my dysfunctional life. What's up with you and Maria? Have you decided about kids yet?"

Natasha stuck her tongue out at him. "I don't know why I ever told you that. Just because Maria thinks I'd make cute pups doesn't mean we should. Our lives are too dangerous to bring them into this."

Before Clint could pick up more threads of their on-going argument, the elevator doors opened, and Tony and Steve spilled into the common room, engaged in an animated conversation. It took them a second to realize that they weren't alone, and then Tony swatted Steve on the ass and said, "Looks like it's Omega bonding time. You go over there and keep out of trouble for five minutes."

Steve made his way over to where Natasha and Clint were leaning against the bar, and watched Tony effortlessly add himself to where Maria and Bucky were sitting. "How'd it go?" he asked Clint, but it was obvious that his casualness was faked. It was really a relief to know just how bad Captain America was at lying when national security wasn't on the line. 

But Clint wasn't going to spill Bucky's secrets, even if nothing particularly new had been revealed yet. "It went okay," he said, aiming for neutral. "Sam did a good job."

"Glad to hear it." Over in the conversation pit, Tony said something that cracked Maria up and even made Bucky smile a little, and a warm feeling spread through Clint's midsection. Steve continued, his voice soft. "Do you think - maybe you guys could join us for dinner?"

Clint turned his attention back to Steve, who looked so hopeful. Now he wished that _he_ was better at lying. "We might be able to," he said carefully. "That'd be up to Bucky. But Steve - you know you're never getting _that_ Bucky back, right? Too much time, too much bullshit has gone by."

Steve sighed a little. "Why does everyone seem to think I'm too stupid to realize that? But I'd like to get to know _this_ version of Bucky, see if I could be _his_ friend."

The pain in Steve's voice was a palpable thing, and it made Clint ache for him. He couldn't even imagine all that the man had been through in the last few years. Dinner was probably the least they could do. He looked over at Natasha, who gave him a tiny nod. "How about we order in for the six of us, Steve?" Clint suggested. "I can't guarantee that Bucky will want to stay after dinner, but he's finally started to believe that I'm never going to let him starve, and that means if there's food on offer he'll stay until he's full."

"Good. Yeah, that would be good," Steve said. 

Before Clint could say anything further, Natasha had sauntered over to the small group of Omegas. She pressed a kiss to the back of Maria's head, and Clint was pleased to note that while Bucky tensed up, he didn't immediately slide off the couch to the floor. "Okay, we're going to order dinner. Any requests?"

"Anything but Indian," Tony said, and next to Clint, Steve chuckled loudly enough for Tony to hear him. Tony turned his head and stuck out his tongue at Steve. "I told you not to get vindaloo. You got it anyway, and now I will have no taste buds for the next two weeks because it burned them all off."

"I didn't tell you to eat any of my dinner, Tony," Steve said, still laughing.

"No Indian, that's easy," Natasha said, ignoring the rest of the bickering. "Any requests _for_ something?"

Maria leaned back towards Natasha. "I think Bucky should pick. He's been holed up in Clint's apartment for days, There's got to be something he wants to eat."

Clint immediately looked at Bucky, who was looking at him with faint panic on his face. He straightened up and raised his voice just a little. "Bucky, you don't have to choose if you don't want to, but if there is something that you want, we can get it. Tony's got accounts with all the best hole in the wall places."

Bucky's panic faded into a look that meant he was thinking about it, and for a moment, everyone was quiet, waiting to see if he'd volunteer something. His voice was small when he asked, "Is New York pizza still good?"

"Is it?" Tony said, incredulous. "Oh, that's it - Steve, what was the place you were so happy was still open on Coney Island?"

"Totonno's? Tony, that will take forever to get here," Steve said, but even Clint could see the want in his eyes.

Bucky's eyes were screwed shut in concentration. "Did we use to go there?" he asked Steve. "Maybe on Sundays?"

"Yeah, during the summer, Bucky," Steve said. "But Tony, seriously. It's easily forty-five minutes if there's no traffic."

Tony was grinning like a mad man. "Not if I take the suit," he said, and at that, Steve said, "Yeah, okay. You have a point."

Shooting to his feet, he said to Steve, "Call it in. Tell them I'll tip them 200% if it's ready when I get there in fifteen minutes. At least four large pies. Got it?"

Laughing again, Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket. "You know, your money can't buy you everything."

"But it can buy us pizza," Tony said, already headed to the workshop and his suit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a nightmare. Clint wakes up to an armful of content Bucky and THAT escalated quickly.

The evening passed in an abundance of pizza and laughter. Clint couldn't help but keep an eye on Bucky, who never actually laughed but did occasionally give a small smile in response to something said by someone else. But as the sun went down and the group got louder, he noticed faint lines around Bucky's eyes and mouth, making him look tired.

He hoped that Bucky would say something about going back to their apartment, but when he didn't, Clint took it on himself to give Bucky an out. "Hey, Bucky," he said, softly enough that the only person who could probably overhear it was Steve. "You're looking pretty beat there, buddy. Today's been a pretty busy day for both of us. I'm ready to call it an evening if you are."

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting slouched on the floor. He still refused to sit on the same furniture as an Alpha, but at least his posture was no longer so finishing-school perfect that it made Clint's back ache. "I - If you want to go back to the apartment - " he started.

Clint cut him off, but made sure to not put any real force behind his words. "It's up to you, Bucky. If you're having fun, we can stay longer. But no one is going to object to us leaving, either."

Looking conflicted, Bucky chewed on his lip for a long moment and then said, "If you're sure, I think... I think I would like to go back to our apartment."

"Done," Clint said and stood up. "It's been great," he said to the rest of the people in the room. "And that pizza _was_ pretty good, but we're going to call it a night."

Steve bent down to offer Bucky his hand, and for once Bucky accepted the assistance in getting to his feet. There was a general round of well-wishing, and Natasha gave Clint a hug, and then they headed back to their apartment.

Bucky had developed something of a nightly routine, so Clint just nodded approvingly when he pointed towards the bathroom. To the background sounds of Bucky brushing his teeth and taking a shower, he examined the prescription bottle that had appeared on the breakfast bar.

"Buspirone, 5 milligrams," he read off the label. "JARVIS, tell me about it."

"It's a mild anti-anxiety medication," JARVIS replied promptly. "It might have slight sedative effects, but from the literature that I can access, it is truly one of the milder medications for that. It is non-addictive or habit forming, and at twice a day, is a low dose."

"Okay," Clint said, setting the bottle down and tapping his fingers on the counter for a moment, thinking. He didn't really like the idea of medicating Bucky out of his mind, but if Bucky wanted to take it, it sounded safe enough.

The shower was still running as he went to the master bedroom to do his own nightly routine. As he washed his hair and scrubbed down, he spent a second stroking his cock, which as usual was perking up at the thought of Bucky in his own shower. Having Abadi say that there was nothing wrong with the two of them having a sexual relationship was not helping his self control in the slightest.

Giving himself a mental smack on the wrist, he let go and finished cleaning up. It only took him a few moments to dry off and slide into pajama pants and a t-shirt, before heading back out into the living room.

Bucky was already there, sitting on the floor next to the couch, head resting against the arm. When he heard Clint, he sat up a little straighter, a smile on his face. He looked a lot more relaxed than earlier in the day, that was for sure. Clint sat down next to Bucky and ran a hand through Bucky's soft hair. It was still damp at the roots, but he'd clearly taken Clint's lessons about blow-drying it to heart. "Big day today," Clint said softly. "You tired?"

Bucky nodded under his hand and then hid a yawn. "I think it was good though?" he said, his voice uncertain.

"It was good. They delivered the medicine that the doctor wants you to try. Do you want to take one and see how you do?" Clint asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Twisting, Bucky looked at Clint, clearly trying to figure out the "right" answer. Clint used all of his training to keep his body language open and honest, without telling Bucky what he should say. Finally, Bucky said, "I guess? It won't hurt, will it?"

"No, Bucky, it won't hurt. It should just help you relax a little," Clint said. "JARVIS says it's safe, and we both know he likes you better than me anyway."

Clint nearly cheered when Bucky chuckled and said, "It's because I don't crawl around in the vents like you used to." Instead, Clint just nodded. "I'll try it," Bucky continued. "If I don't like it I don't have to take it again?"

"Exactly," Clint said. "But let me grab one of the pills and water." He stood up to do that, and on his way back realized that in the brief moments of him not sitting right there, Bucky had started to slump a little, as if he was falling asleep sitting up. "I was going to ask if you wanted to watch TV, but I think you need some sleep," he said, nudging Bucky and handing over the pill and the glass.

"I can stay awake," Bucky insisted, but his argument was undercut by a yawn in the middle of the sentence.

"I'm sure you can," Clint said, "But you probably shouldn't. Let's go to bed."

Bucky swallowed the pill and then rolled to his feet. He started towards the kitchen, but Clint said, "Just leave the glass on the table. It can wait until tomorrow."

He led Bucky towards his bedroom, only to have Bucky stop at the doorway. "I can sleep here," he said, gesturing towards the small pile of blankets and pillow. "I don't have to share your bed if you don't want - "

Clint wanted to bang his head a little. It was amazing how Bucky could swing from someone who was developing a sense of self and his own desires and then fall right back into his old patterns. "It's up to you," is all he said, though. "It's always up to you. But if you have nightmares, I would like it very much if you came to me, okay?"

"Okay," Bucky said, settling on the floor right inside Clint's room, quickly arranging the pillow and blanket to his liking. Clint headed to his bed, and couldn't help thinking that it felt awful big and lonely. He hadn't felt like that since Phil had died.

He climbed in, curled on his side, and closed his eyes. He'd long since trained himself to fall asleep in any condition because he never knew when his next chance would be, so even though his head was buzzing with thoughts, he relaxed into sleep between one breath and the next.

It felt like it hadn't been any time at all before faint sounds woke him, and it only took him moments to look over and see Bucky twitching fitfully in his sleep, whimpering as he did so. "Bucky?" he whispered, not sure how deeply asleep he was.

Bucky's eyes shot open, shining in the light of the hall light that Clint had taken to leaving on so that he didn't accidentally step on Bucky if he had to get up to answer a call in the middle of the night. "Clint?" he replied, his voice shaky, as if he was fighting tears.

"Yeah," Clint said. "Do you want to come up?"

He could see Bucky nodding, and scrambling to his feet, only for him to hesitate at the side of the bed. Clint wanted to find a Hydra agent and beat his head in just for that. "Come on, Bucky," he said, holding up the covers invitingly. "Fudail said that it was okay, remember?"

Bucky nodded, and slowly slid into the bed, his body rigid in obvious fear. "Shh," Clint said, trying to be comforting. "Would you like to be held? Or just be next to me?"

"I don't know," Bucky answered, his voice lost and confused. 

"Okay, well, let's try something, and if it makes you uncomfortable, you just tell me, and we'll try something else," Clint said. He stretched out on his back, reaching one arm towards Bucky. "Turn to face me, and rest your head right here," he said, patting his bicep with his other hand,

It took him a few moments, but eventually, Bucky was lying close, his body warm against Clint's, his head heavy on Clint's arm. "You okay?" Clint asked as Bucky yawned, his eyes slowly closing.

"Feels good," Bucky said, and Clint had to smile. He knew that if they didn't shift at some point in the night, he'd wake up with a numb hand. It would be completely worth it if it meant Bucky was able to get a restful night's sleep.

Bucky fell back asleep quickly, and Clint followed him down, letting the heat of his body warm Clint from the inside out.

Clint was sleepy and comfortable in the faint light of sunrise peeking through the curtains, pressed up against a body that was warm and muscled and smelled _amazing_ , and he couldn't help but press into it a little more firmly. His hardening cock nestled between the tight cheeks of - fuck! Bucky!

With a sudden jerk, he pulled back and away from Bucky's body. It was Bucky he'd been rubbing up against in his sleep, and that was just fucked up. While Bucky had voluntarily come into his bed the night before, he certainly hadn't given any indication that he was interested in sex. And while his therapist had said the day before that sex was okay, it was _if Bucky initiated it_. Humping the Omega in his sleep was hardly consent, dammit.

All of this ran through Clint's head in a moment of panic, and then Bucky was turning, twisting to look at him, his eyes wide. "Sir - Clint - what did I do wrong?" he asked.

_Fuck_. "You didn't do anything wrong," Clint said, frantically trying to force his hard-on away. "You were doing just fine."

Bucky didn't look convinced, and Clint couldn't blame him. As far as Clint knew, Bucky had been sleeping soundly when Clint had jerked away like he'd been burnt. Not knowing what else to do, Clint opened his arms and prayed that his cock would behave. "Come here," he said, and slowly, hesitantly, Bucky did, moving closer.

Clint tried to pull his hips back and away as Bucky's heat and scent went straight to his lower brain. Bucky's body followed as if magnetized, and Clint could tell the moment that Bucky realized he was brushing against Clint's cock, because his eyes went wide. "Oh," he said, softly.

"Yeah, sorry," Clint said, trying to pull back even further. "You don't have to do anything about it. Just ignore it. It'll go away."

"I don't mind," Bucky said softly, "You've done so much for me."

"Yeah, that's not exactly an enthusiastic yes," Clint said, but couldn't help but groan as Bucky pushed forward again, this time with more intent. Bucky's cock wasn't exactly hard, but it was definitely more erect than it had been a moment earlier, and Clint groaned again at the feeling.

"I think... I think I want to?" Bucky said, and Clint thumped his head against the pillow. Bucky had been triggering Clint's Alpha's instincts since day one, and now he was adding physical urges to the protective ones already there. "Can I try?"

Clint chewed on the inside of his lip. Abadi had said it was okay, but it was the first time that Bucky had shown any interest in sex at all, and for all Clint knew it was because he thought it was something he owed Clint. And if that was the case, Clint didn't want to go there. He took another deep breath, and that was a mistake because the unmistakable scent of warm, safe Omega flooded his senses. 

"I want to, Bucky," he admitted. He wasn't going to lie to the Omega, even if that meant being honest that he wasn't sure he trusted Bucky's motives. "But I don't want you to feel you have to, just because I'm nice to you."

Bucky looked frustrated for a moment. "Fudail said it was okay to have sex," he said mulishly, and part of Clint was thrilled to see the hint of rebellion. The other part was trying to be honorable, and that part was having a hard time with the situation.

" _If you want to,_ " Clint said. "Not because you think you should."

"I haven't had sex in at least seventy years. I don't know what I want," Bucky said. 

"That's not the argument for me to go along with this that you seem to think it is," Clint said. "Have you even jerked off since you got free of Hydra?"

Bucky blinked, his cheeks going red. "Yes?" he said. "Was I not supposed to? You've told me so many times that I could do anything I wanted, and I really - I wanted to try. And you let me have a warm shower and I do it there so there's no mess. After the first time, I just, I thought it couldn't hurt. If I was wrong - "

His voice was starting to go high and panicky, and that, more than anything else, brought Clint back to earth with a thump, "Shh, it's fine, Bucky. I want you to feel good, and if jerking off in the shower feels good, then of course I want you to do it."

"Sex would make me feel good too, I bet," Bucky said, and they were right back where they started.

Clint was torn. Bucky was _here_ , saying he was willing, and smelling absolutely fantastic. On the other hand, he'd had exactly one therapy appointment, and that simply wasn't enough for Clint's peace of mind when it came to Bucky being clear on his own wants.

And then Bucky leaned over a little more and pressed a kiss to Clint's lips. It was clumsy and messy, and it took Clint a moment to catch up and return it, but when he did, it rapidly became heated. Bucky groaned into Clint's mouth, and Clint couldn't help but respond in kind. When he did, Bucky rolled forward, pressing his body into Clint's from shoulders to knees, and there was no question that he was into this, at least physically.

But the part of Clint's brain that never stopped calculating angles was still unsure about the ethics involved, and he slowed the kiss, finally ending it and edging Bucky back. "Bucky - " he started, not completely sure where he was going with his thoughts.

Bucky's hips jerked forward, pressing his cock into Clint again, and again it was uncoordinated and had no finesse, but it seemed even more honest for that. Finally, Clint's brain came up with a solution that he thought he could live with. "Bucky," he said again, as he tried to put at least a few inches between the two of them, "I have a plan."

"Yes," Bucky said, his voice more a moan than a statement, and almost derailing Clint.

"Before you agree, you might want to actually listen," Clint said. He knew his voice was sharp, but he needed Bucky to actually _pay attention_.

With a frustrated sigh that would not have been out of place in a rejected teenager, Bucky rolled onto his back. "I'm listening," he said, and part of Clint was pleased with the lack of deference in his voice.

"I know you think you want this," Clint said, and when Bucky opened his mouth to argue, he put up his hand, "I _know_ , but Bucky, last night you had trouble saying what you wanted for dinner. I will agree to mutual handjobs, _for now_. If you discuss this with Abadi, and then still want to have sex, then we can talk about it. Besides, I don't think you want to get pregnant, and I don't have any condoms here. Fair?"

Bucky's forehead furrowed as if he was thinking hard. Since Clint was having trouble thinking with more than his dick, he could sympathize. Finally, Bucky nodded, but he looked disgruntled. "If that's what you want," he said.

"For now, that's what I'm willing to do," Clint said. He'd decided on a course of action and he was going to stick with it. "I'm not saying no, Bucky. I'm just saying not now."

"Sounds like a no," Bucky said, and Clint had a mildly hysterical thought that if hanging out with other Omegas gave Bucky this much backbone, he either needed to do it a lot more or not at all.

Clint leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Bucky's shoulder. "Bucky, right now I'd like nothing more than to fuck the hell out of you," he said. "But if I did that, and you changed your mind, I would have to live with being worse than Hydra."

At that, Bucky's face grew fierce. "You're nothing like them," he said.

"I'd like to think you're right," Clint said. "But you told me yourself that they didn't expect sex from you, and if you decide that you only did this because you believed it would make me happy, what does that say about me?"

Bucky huffed a breath, but he nodded. "I guess you're right. If that means that I get _something_ and if that's what you want," he said, a little more of his customary deference creeping back into his voice.

Clint wasn't particularly happy about that development, but he couldn't have it both ways, he decided. So instead, he ignored it, reaching down and tugging on Bucky's sleep pants. "If you want me to touch you, these need to come off."

Bucky started stripping out of them so fast that Clint was a little surprised that he didn't rip them into pieces in the process. He couldn't help but watch as Bucky's cock - sleek and slick and hard - came into view. Then Bucky coughed delicately and said, "You, too, please?"

Oh, yeah, Clint was going to get a handjob out of this too. He'd almost forgotten. He slipped off his pants and his boxers and watched Bucky's eyes lock onto Clint's cock, the tip of his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

Clint knew that he wasn't particularly well-hung by Alpha standards, but Bucky didn't seem to mind if the expression on his face was any indication. He reached out towards Clint's cock, only to pull back before actually making contact. Clint said, "You don't have to touch me if you've changed your mind," he said, even as his cock throbbed in disagreement. "I can still get you off if you want."

"No, I want to. I just... I don't remember." Bucky looked embarrassed, his cheeks red.

"Don't remember what, Bucky?" Clint asked. "It's a cock. Just do what feels good to you and I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it."

"But you're an Alpha," Bucky said, and this time there was no mistaking the way he licked his lips. "Don't I have to be careful of your knot?"

"Awww, Bucky, no," Clint said. "I've never knotted anyone, and it's not going to happen with a handjob, anyway."

Bucky's face came up and he made direct eye contact. There was no mistaking the surprise. "What? Never?"

"Nope. Alphas only knot when they're fucking an Omega, and I've never even been this close to one during sex," Clint said with a shrug. He wasn't embarrassed by it, and thinking about it, it might even out the situation between the two of them, at least a little.

Bucky's eyebrows were practically to his hairline, but then he was reaching out again, and this time he didn't stop before he wrapped his hand - warm and gentle and with the most intriguing calluses - around Clint's cock. Clint gave himself a second to breathe through the sensation. He'd had a few one night stands since Phil's death, but this was the first time that it was someone that he was going to see in the morning. Someone that he knew that he cared about, and wasn't that a terrifying thought?

Rather than chase it down the rabbit hole, he reached out and took Bucky in his own hand, giving a slow, gentle stroke. Bucky whimpered, his hips jerking at just that gentle touch, and Clint reminded himself that this was the first time in a very long time that Bucky had been touched for no other reason than to give him pleasure, and turned his attention to doing just that.

He started with long, slow strokes, but quickly figured out that Bucky was most sensitive right below the head, and he focused his strokes there. Keeping them steady and slow, he tried to drag out Bucky's pleasure, to bring him as much as he possibly could. 

From the sounds that Bucky was making, he was succeeding beyond his wildest dreams. Bucky's hand was still wrapped around Clint's cock, but he'd stopped moving it. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing like he couldn't drag enough oxygen into his lungs. "Please," he whined, his hips thrusting forward. "Please, sir..."

"Please, what, Bucky?" Clint asked, totally enraptured at the expressions washing across Bucky's face. This - this is what an Omega should look like, he thought as he tightened his hand slightly. This total loss in pleasure was beautiful.

"Your fingers," Bucky said. "Inside, please? Please, sir?"

That was definitely more than a handjob, and Clint was ready to refuse, when Bucky spread wider, and the smell of totally aroused Omega struck Clint in the hindbrain. Fingers. Fingers were still a handjob, he rationalized to himself. He even knew it was a rationalization as he shifted them so that he was kneeling between Bucky's legs, one hand still on Bucky's cock as the other slid down and back, over his tight scrotum, to his hole, which was wet and open as he probed gently with one finger.

Bucky gasped, his hips coming up off the bed. "Yesssss," he hissed, and that was enough to get Clint to add another finger and slowly fuck Bucky with both of them at the same time that he stroked his cock.

Every time he pushed deep into Bucky's hole, his hips came up further, till it seemed like all that was touching the bed were Bucky's shoulders and his heels. Clint wanted to go further so much that he physically ached with the necessity to hold back, but he managed to hold out, managed to keep from replacing his fingers with his cock, or sucking Bucky's cock into his mouth.

It seemed like it lasted forever and no time at all before Bucky gave a harsh cry and then his cock jerked in Clint's fist, his ass clenching around Clint's fingers, come striping Bucky from collar bones to pubic hair. "Oh, god," Bucky gasped out, collapsing down on the bed, Clint just barely able to get his fingers out before Bucky went flat. "Oh, _my god_ , Bucky said again, still breathing hard. "I didn't - I had thought - it was good when I did it in the shower, but that was amazing."

Clint thought that if this was what it took to get Bucky to open up, he'd have to give serious thoughts to the ethics stopping him from fucking him because that was the most honest expression of positive emotion he'd heard from Bucky since he'd come to live with Clint. He wanted to stroke his face, reinforce it, but both of his hands were sticky. So instead, he balanced carefully and leaned forward and pressing a kiss to Bucky's mouth, "I'm glad you enjoyed," he said happily,

Then Bucky's eyes opened wide. "I'm sorry!" he cried, and before Clint could ask why, or even figure out how he'd done it, Bucky had flipped him over and his hand was back on Clint's cock, stroking it in a mirror image to what Clint had done. All of Clint's words dried up, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as pleasure burned through his veins. 

"I could - can I suck you?" Bucky asked.

Clint wanted to say yes. He wanted it with a painful intensity. But decisions made in the heat of the moment were rarely good ones, so he shook his head. "Just this, Bucky. This is plenty."

Bucky bit his lip, but his hand never slowed, stroking Clint's cock. Clint had never really thought about how much smell mattered in sex until his senses were filled with the smell of satisfied Omega. It was that as much as Bucky's hand that pushed him closer and closer to the edge. As he got closer, he forced his eyes open and met Bucky's. "Kiss me," he asked, trying to keep it from being a demand, and as Bucky's lips met his, he came, his release pumping out over Bucky's fist.

He let Bucky keep stroking until his cock was over sensitive, and then carefully reached down to guide Bucky's hand away from Clint's cock. "God," he said, his voice practically a croak. "That was amazing, Bucky."

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, his voice small and shy, and Clint couldn't help but reach out, stickiness be damned. 

"Yeah," Clint said, his palm pressed to Bucky's face. "You're beautiful."

"Even with -" Bucky gestured towards his torso, and Clint knew he meant Bucky's scars, the metal arm. But in the moment, all he could see was _Bucky_.

"Even with everything," he said. "No matter what, you're beautiful, Bucky."

Bucky turned his face to the side, and in the morning sunlight, he could see the faint blush on Bucky's cheeks. But if they stayed here, he was going to decide to throw everything to the wind and go for round two, so after another quick kiss, he started to slide out of bed. "I'm going to go clean up," he said. "You should do that too."

"Yeah, I guess," Bucky said, and there was a note in his voice that Clint couldn't identify or place. But he was sliding out of bed on the other side, and gathering up his sleep clothes, so Clint did the same, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get clean. Figuring out other things could wait a little while until he was clean and caffeinated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the team. Bucky wants something that Clint isn't sure is good for him.

The next two days were surreal. Bucky alternated between trying to keep distance between the two of them, and rubbing up against Clint's body at every possible excuse. Clint was slowly being driven out of his mind.

Out of self defense that evening, he called Steve and Tony and invited them up to his apartment for chili for dinner. As he browned ground beef and chopped onions, Bucky used the excuse of doing the dishes to stay as close as he could, and Clint could only thank god when JARVIS let him know that they were at the door. 

"Go let them in," he said, trying not to show how much Bucky's closeness had affected him. 

Bucky nodded and went to the door, and it wasn't just Steve and Tony. Natasha was there as well, and so was Bruce. Clint could hear Steve say, "I told them not to come," his voice a little helpless.

"And I told him that when you made chili you always made enough to feed a dozen supersoldiers," Natasha said with a laugh. Clint peaked around the corner at the door to see her pushing past Steve, a pan of what was probably cornbread in her hands.

"Well, I can't deny that," Clint said. "It freezes well, you know that."

Tony sniffed the air appreciatively. "How did I not know you make chili?" he asked, slapping Steve on the ass as he crowded into the kitchen as well.

Bucky stumbled back out of the way, only to be steadied by Steve's hand on his arm. "You okay?" Steve asked him, his voice soft but not so quiet that Clint couldn't hear.

Nodding, Bucky waited until Bruce had come in as well, a large salad in his hands, and then shut the door. Clint kept an eye on him - this was a lot of people in a much smaller space than Bucky had dealt with previously.

But Bucky seemed to be holding it together, his smile small but unforced as Steve patted him on the shoulder. "You know," Clint called, "Why don't you guys go have a seat? There's not enough room in the kitchen for any more people." It wasn't a lie. With Natasha pulling out dishes to set the table with and Bruce taking over a counter to make his homemade dressing, not to mention Tony stealing bites of everything not nailed down, there wasn't room for the two large men.

Steve turned a hopeful look on Bucky, and even though Bucky gave Clint an uncertain look, he followed Steve to the couch. 

Determined to give them some privacy, Clint turned his attention back to making sure that the seasoning of the chili was just right and that the cornbread was put in the oven to warm, When he glanced over again, Bucky was deep in a conversation with Steve, intent on Steve's words. Clint couldn't help but be pleased. Maybe Steve would be able to get a relationship of some sort with Bucky after all.

By the time dinner was ready to go to the table, Bucky was laughing, and Steve grinning slyly. Clint smiled at the sight as he carried the pan of chili to the table, followed by Natasha and Bruce and their contributions.

They settled at the table. Clint was glad to see that Bucky only hesitated for a moment before perching on the edge of the chair to his right. He knew that sitting on the furniture still made Bucky anxious, but in a mixed group like this, it seemed easier for him. It helped that on Bucky's other side was Tony, who lounged in his own chair as if he was a very large, content cat. 

Steve whispered something into Tony's ear, something that sent his eyebrows up, and then Tony leaned in close and said something very softly to Bucky. Bucky went bright red almost immediately, but he nodded.

The meal wasn't as loud as it could be when Thor was there, but there was no shortage of conversation, even if Bucky seemed unwilling to initiate any on his own. 

Bruce was sitting on Clint's other side, and as Tony held most of the table's attention with his description of DUM-E's latest exploits, he leaned over and said, "Bucky seems to be settling in well," Bruce said. "Things going okay for you?"

Clint's concerns about the ethics of the handjobs two days earlier nearly spilled over then and there. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, of the whole team Bruce was the most emotionally stable. He'd be able to advise Clint, especially since as a beta he wasn't turned around by scents or biological demands the way Alphas and Omegas were.

But it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have at the table. So instead, he said, "Yeah. I could use an ear while Bucky is meeting with his therapist tomorrow, though. Do you think you could make some time for me?"

Bruce gave a shy smile, pleased as usual to be needed. "Of course. Come see me in the lab when you want to talk."

"Thanks," Clint said.

Conversation continued to roll around the table, interspersed with the sounds of people eating heartily, and it was something that made Clint happy. He was even happier to realize that Bucky was eating more than usual - still not as much as Steve, but more than Clint by a fair amount.

Just as everyone finished up, there was a knock on the door, and JARVIS let them know that Maria was there. Natasha's face broke out in a small smile, and she got up to let her in. "She said that she'd try to bring dessert," she said, and sure enough, Maria was carrying two bags from the nearby grocery store, bags that proved to be full of different types of ice cream and all the fixings.

The team didn't need much urging to hang out until very late, but eventually even Tony was yawning and they started to make their way back to their own suites, leaving Bucky and Clint alone. Clint wished that the team had left a mess, something to distract himself with, except that they were mostly too well-mannered for that, so other than a few glasses, the dishes were done, the leftovers stowed away.

He turned to Bucky, whose eyes were soft and wide. "Um," Clint said, trying to figure out what to do here. He _wanted_ Bucky in his bed, but he didn't want him to feel like Clint was demanding anything he wasn't ready to give.

Clint was so lost in thought that he startled when Bucky slid his hand into Clint's. "Steve could tell," he said, and it took Clint a minute to realize what he was saying.

"He could tell..." Clint said, a bit stymied.

"That we'd had sex," Bucky said, and while Clint was glad to see that he didn't seemed ashamed or embarrassed by it, it was still a bit of a shock at how open he was about it.

"How... Why... Did you _tell_ him?" he couldn't help asking.

"No, he said he could smell sex," Bucky said, and Clint wanted to smack his head into the nearest wall. Apparently showers and two days and there was still enough sex in the air for Steve to smell.

"He's going to murder me," Clint moaned, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "He is straight-up going to kill me."

"He thought it was a good thing," Bucky said, sounding more uncertain. "He said it was good for bonded partners to have sex."

That brought Clint up short. Steve had said that? Clint would have bet good money on him feeling that Clint was taking advantage of Bucky. "Really?"

"Yes," Bucky said, nodding so hard it looked like his head was going to pop off. "He told Tony, and Tony thinks it was good, too. He asked if I liked it."

Clint sighed. That Tony had asked that didn't surprise him at all. "I'm sure he did."

"I told him yes," Bucky said, and there was no hesitation, no prevarication. Just an honest simplicity. "I told him I liked it and that I wanted to do it again. But only if you want."

At least Bucky seemed to have understood something about consent. That was good. That was good, right? Clint was pretty sure it was good. "Bucky, sweetheart, you have no idea what I want," Clint muttered, not really meaning for Bucky to hear him.

Only Bucky put his hand on Clint's chest, right over his heart, and said, "Yes."

"Yes, what, Bucky?" Clint asked.

"Yes, to anything you want. You have... you could have done anything and you've done nothing but take care of me and make sure that I have what I need. Why would I say no to you? You're not going to ask for anything I won't give you."

Clint couldn't help but wonder where this articulate and open Bucky had come from. If it was from a simple handjob, if he gave in on actual intercourse he'd never win another argument. Still, "Bucky, it doesn't work that way. You can't just give me blanket consent. You always have the right to say no."

Bucky shrugged. "I know. I don't want to. And when - if - I go into heat, I don't want anyone but you."

God, Clint hoped that they were on a more even footing before that even became an issue. "So I guess, if I asked if you wanted to sleep in bed with me instead of the floor, you'd say - "

"Yes," Bucky said without hesitation. "If I'm welcome there, then yes, I'd like to sleep in bed with you. I'd like to do more than sleep if you want."

That brick wall was looking more appealing by the moment, or maybe an icy shower. "Bucky, I know you think you want - "

"I thought you said I was allowed to choose," he said, and there was a flare there, a spark, and Clint couldn't help but smile at it. That was more like the Bucky that Cap had described than the frightened Omega that had come to live in Clint's apartment.

"And I said after you have therapy and discuss it with your therapist," Clint said, carefully keeping his voice even. "I know you think you want it it, but I don't want you to have sex with me without at least breaking it down a little more with Fudail. Just so that you're _sure_ , okay?"

Bucky looked mulishly annoyed. "At least can I touch you?" he asked, and there was a note of pleading in his voice that Clint had to be careful not to react to. Otherwise Bucky would learn very quickly what that sound made him want to do.

"Sleep, Bucky. In the same bed. Maybe another handjob in the morning. And then you have therapy tomorrow, and I'll meet with Fudail afterwards, and we'll see what he says. If he says you seem to be honest with him and aware enough of your options that he thinks it's a good idea, we'll discuss it." Clint knew they'd had this conversation in the morning, and he fully expected to have it at least twice more before therapy, because Bucky was proving to be just as stubborn as Steve.

Bucky sighed, sounding a bit like a petulant teenager Omega, about to go into his first heat. "Okay, Clint. If that's what you want."

"Less 'want', Bucky. More, 'am willing to do'," Clint said. "Come on, let's get ready for bed. I don't know about you but I'm tired."

Nodding, Bucky headed off to the second bathroom, and Clint took the reprieve to brush his teeth, and splash cold water on his face. Pulling on clean pajama pants and an old, worn out t-shirt, he climbed into bed, and waited for Bucky, praying that when he showed up he wouldn't be naked. Clint's self-control only extended so far.

When Bucky came back, clad in pajama bottoms but no shirt, Clint didn't say anything, just holding up the blanket in invitation. Within moments Bucky was in the bed with him, curled up with his head on Clint's bicep. "Comfortable?" Clint asked, slightly amused. It seemed like now that Bucky had decided that Clint was safe, he was going to go after all of the physical contact he'd been denied for so long.

"Uh, huh," Bucky said. "But we could - "

Clint cleared his throat meaningfully, and Bucky sighed and said, "I guess we should go to sleep."

"If you promise not to try anything, I'll give you a goodnight kiss," Clint said.

"Deal," Bucky said without hesitation, and Clint rolled so that he was looking into Bucky's soft, warm eyes. 

"Good night, Bucky," he said softly. "Sleep well," and then he pressed a firm, closed-mouth kiss to Bucky's mouth, one that was eagerly returned. Clint brought it to a stop before it could turn into anything more, urged Bucky to cuddle in close, and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bucky has therapy, Clint talks to Bruce. And then he talks to Bucky's therapist.

Clint slept better than he had since Bucky had come to live with him, and if he was honest, for a long time before that. It wasn't just Bucky who had nightmares, after all.

"Agent Barton, Sergeant Barnes' appointment is in a half hour," JARVIS said, and that brought Clint fully awake. 

"It's ten already?" he asked, even as he and Bucky scrambled out of the bed.

"That _is_ what I said," JARVIS said, and Clint was amused as always that Tony had built an AI that was just as snarky as he was.

Bucky was standing on the side of the bed, blinking sleepily, and for just a moment Clint debated cancelling or at least delaying the appointment until Bucky woke up a bit more naturally. Then he mentally smacked his forehead. "Go, shower," he said. "I'll make you some eggs and come back up to get cleaned up after I get you to see Fudail." It took a few seconds for Bucky to get moving, and then he was off to the shower, while Clint went to get a little cleaned up and put breakfast together.

Scrambled eggs and toast and someone had added precooked bacon to the grocery order, so he heated some of that as well. It wasn't as good as the fresh-cooked kind, but they didn't exactly have time for Clint to be picky. By the time Bucky was back in the kitchen, Clint was serving up two plates of food, and as had become normal, Bucky stood next to him, eating, while Clint sat at the breakfast bar with his own plate.

JARVIS spoke up, "Agent Barton, Mister Abadi is in the conference room and is waiting," just as Clint shoveled in the last forkful of eggs. 

"Got it - let him know we'll be there in a minute and get us an elevator, would you?" Clint said, and the two of them left their apartment.

Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, it only took about two minutes to get to the conference room where Fudail waited. When Clint opened the door, he looked up from the reading pad in his hands and gave them both a smile. "Good morning, Bucky. Good morning, Clint. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we just overslept," Clint said. "About how long do you think you'll be? I'd like to talk to you afterwards if that's okay."

"As Bucky's Alpha, it's more than fine, Clint," Fudail. "I have two hours booked to be with Bucky, but it may easily stretch longer or end shorter. Can I have Mister Stark's robot butler let you know when it would be a good time to return?"

"That would be perfect," Clint said. Turning to look at Bucky, he said, "I need you to be honest with him, okay? Don't tell him what you think he - or I - might want to hear."

"My friend Bucky won't do that," Fudail said, a smile in his voice, and Clint nodded, stepping out and closing the door.

For a long minute Clint dithered about what to do next, but he thought he needed to talk to a disinterested party more than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the ends. It was getting long, and he was finding excuses to not go see Bruce.

"This is stupid," he said out loud, and headed towards the elevator. "JARVIS, where is Bruce right now?"

"He is in his lab, Agent Barton," JARVIS answered after a second's pause. "Shall I take you to that floor?"

"Yeah, that's - that's good, let's do that," Clint said.

It only took a few minutes to get to the floor where Bruce researched god-only knew what. Clint just knew that it involved a lot of computers and fewer robots and explosions than Tony's lab space. The door slid open, and he hesitated for a moment before stepping out. The wall to the lab was glass, and he could see Bruce staring intently at a computer monitor, typing a few things in, and then studying the monitor again.

Clint tapped his hand against his thigh, debating. Bruce had said he was welcome, but this was personal, _private_ , and besides Bruce looked busy. Then Bruce looked up and that excuse evaporated as he said something and the door slid open. 

"Clint?" Bruce called out. "You want to come in?"

"I don't want to be a bother," Clint said. "It can wait until you're not busy."

"What, this?" Bruce gestured towards the monitor. "I'm just pretty much poking at nothing while some of my experiments run. I've got all the time you could want. If you don't want to come in here, though, we could go somewhere else."

"Nah," Clint said, and then changed his mind. "Actually, can we go get a cup of coffee? I'd like that. I haven't been out of the Avenger's area in days."

"Sure, we can do that." Bruce ran his hand through his hair, mussing his curls and making Clint want to hide his smile with his hand. "The coffee shop in the lobby?"

Suddenly Clint wanted out of the building entirely. "How about the one across the street?"

"Okay," Bruce said, fumbling with his jacket to get his wallet. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Bucky's at therapy and I'm just a little tired of being inside the tower." Clint checked his pocket to make sure that he had his phone. "JARVIS, my man, you got me if Bucky needs me?"

"I shall call or text your phone if you're not back by the time he's ready for you," JARVIS said, and then the two of them were stepping into the elevator and descending to the lobby. The Avengers elevator was hidden in a small alcove, so the people in the public areas couldn't see it, and no one noticed two average men walking through the lobby and out the front door.

Clint got as far as the curb before he had to stop and just _breathe_. Car exhaust and food from a thousand restaurants and all the other scents of living in New York, and Clint hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until he was in it again. 

Bruce didn't say anything, just hovering next to Clint until Clint finally felt free enough to start moving again. The two of them crossed the street to the indie coffee shop, and Clint said, "Go get us a table - jasmine or chamomile tea?"

"Jasmine," Bruce said. "Thanks."

Clint stood in line, giving the only kind of privacy one could give in a city this large, by deliberately ignoring the soft conversations that surrounded him, while never dropping his situational awareness. Getting his coffee and Bruce's tea, he found Bruce towards the back of the shop, a small metal table with two mismatched chairs. Handing Bruce his cup, he sank into the chair facing the shop, and said, "Thanks."

"It's no problem, Clint. It's been a lot, hasn't it?"

"You could say that," he said with a heavy sigh before burying his face in his mug and drinking half of the bitter cup in several long swallows.

"Are things not good?" Bruce asked cautiously. "I haven't spent a lot of time around Bucky, but he seemed better than when he came in."

"That's not the problem," Clint admitted, and then his throat closed up around the other words that were trying to crowd their way out.

"Ah," Bruce didn't say anything else, just sipped his tea, turning so that he wasn't looking directly at Clint. 

Clint knew that it was one of the tricks that Natasha used to make people talk. He'd been taught it by her as well, and he marveled from the other side how well it worked. "It's that, well, it's _too_ good. But I can't tell if he actually wants the things he says he wants, or if he thinks he owes it to me because I kept him from going to the Raft."

"Have you said anything to make him feel that way?" Bruce asked, and _no one's_ voice was that neutral naturally. "Or is it something else?"

"You know I've never partnered an Omega before, right?" Clint said instead of answering Bruce's question.

"I know your last partner was Agent Coulson, and two Alphas together is a little unusual, but I didn't know you'd never been with an Omega at all," Bruce said.

"Yeah. My parents... well, let's just say that they were walking proof that bonding wasn't necessarily a good idea. Turned me off the idea pretty early, before I even presented I think. I know when I was a teenager I wished that I was a Beta instead,"

Bruce smiled sadly. "Being a Beta isn't exactly always easy," he said, "but I know about the kind of relationships that you're talking about. My parents weren't dissimilar, I think."

So much to unpack in this whole conversation. It was the most personal information he'd given anyone on the team except Natasha. Steve and Tony knew - Steve had been given his personnel file; Clint was pretty sure that Tony had hacked everyone's. But it just wasn't talked about. It didn't get in the way of being a good agent, so no one at SHIELD cared, and it hadn't caused problems on the team either.

"I want him, Bruce. You have no idea just how much I want him. But even though he's only been with me a little while, I don't want to bond with him if it's not the best thing for him."

"And you think you know what that best thing is?" Bruce's voice was a little sharper, and Clint couldn't help wincing. 

"No, but I don't think he does either," Clint admitted. "And it would be easier to never have sex with him at all than to have him walk away when he went into heat because he didn't really want _me_."

"Hmmm," Bruce took a sip of his tea, his eyes focused on something in the distance. "You know, Clint, it's easy to deny yourself things you don't think you deserve. But I'm pretty sure Natasha would say that you deserve this chance. It might not work, you're right about that. But it _might_ , and do you really want to give that chance away on a maybe?"

"Ouch. Low blow, bringing Natasha in, Bruce," Clint said, but he couldn't help but smile.

"If I have to hear the lectures about how I'm going to die lonely if I don't date, the least I can do is pass it on." There was a note of laughter in Bruce's voice.

"She'd never say that to you," Clint said.

"True, but I've gotten some pretty speaking glances," Bruce said. "Look, I can't tell you what's best for him. But Tony had me review his physical records, and based on his hormone levels, he's probably not going to go into heat for six months to a year. I don't know what they were using to suppress his cycle, but it was some seriously powerful stuff. In fact, he's not even close to being fertile, his hormones are so messed up, and it's going to take time for that to straighten itself out. So, you've got plenty of time to decide if you're actually compatible for bonding." Bruce took another sip of tea while Clint stared at him in shock. It had never occurred to him to ask about Bucky's hormone levels. 

"But, you know, if he's willing, and you're willing, and you're not putting any pressure on him to do it because he owes you, it probably won't hurt, and it might actually help." Bruce set down his tea, pulling his gaze back and meeting Clint's eyes.

"So, is one of your PhDs in psych?" Clint asked after a moment.

"Nah, too soft for me," Bruce said. "But let's just say I know what it's like to lose something because I didn't even try."

Bruce's eyes were sad even as he smiled, and Clint could only believe him. "I thought it would be easier to be a Beta, but you were right - sounds like it isn't, really."

"Alpha, Beta, Omega - we're all just people, Clint. You should know that better than anyone - how many Alphas would even consider partnering another Alpha? All any of us can do is try to make sure that we aren't intentionally hurting someone." Bruce took another sip of his tea and then set the mug down on the table with a click. "Do you want him? Do you care about his happiness? Are you willing to let him go if he changes his mind? If the answer to all three is yes, and he says that he's interested, I don't think it would be a bad thing."

Clint looked out over the coffee shop, eyes falling on various groups of people. There were couples and triads, both traditional pairings and some that were less so. He couldn't tell just by looking who were just friends and who were in romantic relationships, but everyone looked happy and content. It was a feeling that he hadn't had in a long time - not since he lost Phil to Loki. "I'm not sure whether I'm afraid that it won't work out or that it will," he said softly, still looking at the others.

"Surprise! You're human," Bruce said, his voice full of sardonic humor. "No one can predict the future, no one can tell if this person really is the perfect one. But sealing yourself off isn't the solution, either."

Shrugging with one shoulder, Clint said, "Guess you're right. Shouldn't I be worried that only a little while ago he was convinced that I was his handler?"

"From what I saw at dinner last night, he's adjusting, and adjusting well. He's interacting with others, he's joking with you and about you. I mean, you can set some sort of timing to it if you want, Clint, but he'll be ready when he's ready - and only he'll be able to know when that is."

Clint mulled over Bruce's words. He wasn't going to argue, but he still wasn't sure. He just wasn't sure how to put his feelings into words.

Then Bruce jumped and glanced at his wrist. "JARVIS says my experiment is done, so I need to get back. Are you ready to go?"

"I think I'm going to stay here," Clint said, giving Bruce a smile. "Soak up more of that New York ambience."

"Pollution, you mean," Bruce said with a twist of his lips.

"Eh, little of one, little of the other," Clint said, and nodded his goodbye as Bruce picked up his mug and made his way out of the shop. 

He continued to watch the ebb and flow of people in the shop, losing track of time after a while. His coffee was long gone when his phone rang, JARVIS's ring, and he grabbed for it. "Yeah - they done?"

"Mister Abadi has asked that I summon you. Are you nearby?"

Clint stood up and started to head out of the shop. "Don't front, JARVIS. You're my favorite AI and that means you know exactly where I am."

"I believe I am the only AI that you know, Agent Barton, but I'll take that in the spirit I'm sure it was meant. I'll give Mister Abadi and Sergeant Barnes an ETA and have the elevator waiting for you."

"Perfect," Clint said as he crossed the street, and then he tucked his phone into his pocket and pulled out his building ID. It didn't have his picture on it, but it was encoded to let him into the Avengers elevator bay. True to JARVIS's word, the elevator was there with the door open, and Clint went in without pausing, the door closing behind him.

He wasn't sure what to expect when he got to the conference room, so he just tried to set his mindset to open and knocked on the door. Fudail opened it, and Clint said, "JARVIS said you were ready for - " and then he looked past Fudail and saw that Bucky had tear tracks on his face and his words left. 

It took everything he had not to just shove past Fudail to get to Bucky, but Fudail seemed to know that that was what he wanted, because he stepped back, clearing the path between the two of them. As soon as he was close, he crouched down, trying to get close while maintaining Bucky's sense of propriety. "Bucky, you okay, buddy?"

"Did I do something wrong?" Bucky asked, his breath hitching in his throat. "Is that why? Is it because I'm Hydra?"

"You're _not_ Hydra," Clint said insistently. "Any more than my bow is part of SHIELD. You were being used as a weapon without your consent. Why would I be mad at you about that?"

"You don't - you'll hold me, but you don't want to have sex with me," Bucky said, his voice heart-breakingly sad.

Clint turned to look at Fudail, at a loss for words. Fudail gave him a serious look and came to sit down across the table from Bucky. "Clint, Bucky says that you've never had an Omega partner. Is that true?"

"Um, yes?" Clint said, a little uncertain what that had to do with anything.

"It's possible then that you aren't aware just how deep the needs for physical touch go for Omegas," he said. "Bucky not only has a lot of trauma to deal with but one of the most severe cases of touch-deprivation I've ever seen. And while having the two of you share a bed is better than nothing, sex would actually be good for Bucky, especially since he says that there was no rape during his time with Hydra."

"You've got to be kidding me," Clint said. "It's just... sex is just sex!"

"For Alphas and Betas, that's true," Fudail said. "And Omegas _can_ go without when it's not available, but it is very uncomfortable for them. If you're not attracted to Bucky, or if you're not interested in sex for another reason, that's fine. But if you are, and you're holding back because you think you should, well..."

"I'm hurting him by _not_ fucking him?" Clint blurted out, shocked at the implication.

Fudail winced a bit. " _Hurt_ may be too strong a word," he said. "But it would be helpful if it was something you were interested in."

Clint seemed to be spinning in about fifteen different directions. "It's not that I don't want to," he said, returning his attention to Bucky's face. "Bucky, I _like_ you and I want what's best for you - and that includes giving you the freedom to walk away. I'm afraid that if we're having sex, you won't go, even if that's what's best for you."

"But that's my choice, isn't it?" Bucky asked, frustration bleeding through in his voice. "You keep saying you want me to make my own choices, and then when I make this one, you tell me that I don't know what I want."

The words were a bit like being punched in the stomach, and Clint couldn't help but flinch. "I - I - it's not that I don't trust your judgement, Bucky," he said, a little helplessly.

"If you trusted my judgement we would have already had sex," and oh, that wasn't frustration, that was anger.

On the one hand, Clint was glad to see that Bucky still could feel anger. On the other, he didn't particularly want it directed at him. "I didn't know that it was that important to Omegas," he said, softly. "I've never dated one, remember?"

"I know," and tears were tracking down Bucky's face, with him making no effort to hide them or wipe them away. "Fudail says it's only been recently that Alphas have been taught about it."

Clint shot a quick glance at Fudail, who gave a quick nod. "Well, I guess it's good that they're teaching it now," Clint said, "even if I didn't know. But I'll make a deal with you if you promise me something."

"What?" Bucky asked, finally brushing away his tears with the backs of his hands.

"We can have sex as long as you promise to keep going to therapy, and to tell me, _honestly_ , if you want to stop and look for a different partner."

"I promise," Bucky blurted out before he'd barely finished the sentence.

"Then I guess I know what we're doing after therapy," Clint said, slowly standing back up from his crouch, wincing as his knees both popped.

Fudail chuckled. "There is no point in any more therapy today," he said. "This has been all Bucky has wanted to talk about for the whole session. Go, see if you're compatible. I'll see Bucky in two days, and hopefully we can talk about something other than how beautiful you are."

Clint couldn't help it - he turned to look at Bucky, who was flushing a deep and painful looking red. "Beautiful, huh?"

"Yeah. Can we go? Please?" Bucky asked, and Clint finally gave in to the inevitable.

"Let's go home, Bucky."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex happens

The ride up in the elevator was different from any other that Clint had had. He and Bucky weren't touching, weren't even particularly close, but it felt like he could feel the want bleeding off the other man. He didn't know if this was a new thing, or if he'd just been unintentionally ignoring it, but now that he was looking, it was so obvious that a blind man probably could have seen it - maybe even from space.

He started to reach out towards Bucky, trying to soothe some of that obvious need. Bucky started to lean in, and then pulled away. "Please, apartment?" His voice cracked, and Clint could only nod.

Another minute, and they were on their floor. They made it through their front door, and Clint barely had it closed behind him when Bucky was right up on top of him, plastered to Clint from shoulders to hips. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," Bucky was gasping out, but he was making no effort to pull away either.

This time, though, Clint finally felt like it was okay to embrace Bucky back, to wrap him up in his arms and lean down just enough to nose at the join of Bucky's neck and shoulder, right where a bonding bite would happen. The scent that rose off of Bucky was _intoxicating_ , and Clint couldn't do anything but shudder and lick that spot, tasting Bucky's skin for the first time. "It's okay, Bucky," he said, and he knew he was using his Alpha instincts in his voice, but it was like he couldn't stop, even if he wanted to try.

Bucky cried out, his whole body twitching forcefully, and his smell changed, becoming richer, earthier. It was a smell that Clint was going to carry in his dreams forever - the smell of Bucky coming. "Did you just - " he started.

" _God_ , yes," Bucky said. "But I want... bed. We need to be in bed."

"Yeah, definitely," Clint said, pulling away from Bucky with reluctance. He grabbed him by the hand, and started towards the master bedroom, not that there was any resistance at all. He only let go once they were within reach of the bed, and even that was painful. But he needed skin-on-skin, and that meant shedding his clothes.

Yanking his t-shirt off over his head, he realized that Bucky was stripping just as fast, and it was almost a race to see who was going to be naked first - one that Bucky won, but by just a hair. As soon as Clint had finished shoving down his pants and stepping out of them, Bucky was right there, plastered up against him again, and Clint had been right, naked with intent was _amazing_. Their mouths crashed together and there was no time for finesse or gentleness, just Clint giving Bucky's mouth a thorough plundering, tasting him and wanting - _needing_ \- more.

Bucky pulled back. "Bed. Please, Clint. Need you, need you, need you..."

"You've got me," Clint said, and gently pushed Bucky onto the bed. He was lying down diagonally, and Clint knew that he should pause long enough to get him lying right way around, but he didn't want to take the time. Instead, he followed him down, bracketing Bucky's body with his own, gasping as his erection pressed hard up against Bucky's. "God, so good, Bucky," he gasped out, gently thrusting against him.

"No," Bucky said. "Not like - inside, please? I need you inside me."

"We do that, and I'm not going to last," Clint admitted, as painful as it was. "It's been a long time."

"Then we'll just do it again," Bucky said, and Clint couldn't argue with that logic. 

"Lube, lube, lube," he chanted, trying to reach the bedside table without losing contact with Bucky. Thank god Bruce had told him that there was no chance of Bucky getting pregnant right now, or he'd have had to call a halt to things while he went to get condoms.

Except that Bucky was twisting, squirming, turning over onto his front and pushing up on his knees. "Don't need it. Just, please, Clint, please!"

Clint could barely think, but he managed to maintain enough functioning brain cells to run his fingers down Bucky's crack to his hole, and Bucky was right - he was soaking wet, and two fingers sank into his opening easily. Clint groaned, shifting so that he could line his cock up with Bucky's ass, and he had split second thought that he should just ask, one more time, except that Bucky was pressing back, and Clint's cock was sliding into his hole, slow and steady, and god, god, god... Clint had never felt anything like it.

Bucky was breathing so hard and so fast he was practically hyperventilating, and that calmed Clint's need for a second. He locked one of his hands around Bucky's hip, holding him still, and leaning forward, reached around so that he could run his hand down Bucky's chest. "Breathe, Bucky. This is going to go better if neither of us pass out." And then, because Bucky wasn't the only one struggling for oxygen, he took a deep breath of his own, slowly letting it out and backing away from the overwhelming need that was so all-encompassing.

He held them like that, refusing to let Bucky shift or move, until both of them were breathing a little steadier, and only then knelt up. He wrapped his other hand around Bucky's other hip, and kept him steady as he slowly slid in, and then out, and then in again.

Bucky groaned, braced on his elbows, his head hanging down. "Harder," he said, more of a plea than a demand, but it fit so well with what Clint wanted that he couldn't help but give in. He started to thrust in earnest, each stroke bottoming out and making Bucky moan.

Suddenly, Bucky dropped his shoulders to the bed, lifting his ass higher, deepening the curve of his ass. The position went straight to Clint's hindbrain, and took possession of all of his ability to think. All he could do was focus on fucking Bucky, hard and fast and deep, letting Bucky's hole squeeze tight around his cock. Bucky was crying out with each thrust, and there was nothing but pleasure in each cry, each movement of his body.

Clint was almost there, almost at the peak, and then Bucky started to come, his hole clenching tight in arrhythmic jolts around Clint's cock. And as if Clint's cock had a mind of his own, he pressed in tight. He realized after just a second that he was going to knot Bucky, and he gasped, practically grinding against Bucky as the base of his cock swelled, locking him tight into Bucky, and then he was coming, and coming, and coming.

It was different than any orgasm Clint had ever had. It felt like he was still coming, long past the point where he should have fallen over, and was both gentler and more intense, as contradictory as that seemed in his head, to his limited ability to think. 

He knew that they could stay locked together for an hour or more, so he carefully worked to turn both of them so they could lie on their side. Through it all, Bucky gasped and shivered in his arms, and it just made him want to hold him tighter, harder. "Shh, Bucky," he whispered as they finally settled into position. "I've got you."

"C-clint?" Bucky whispered back. "Is it - are you - " and then he made a wordless noise of frustration. 

"It's okay, Bucky," Clint said, trying to be soothing. "I won't let you go."

"Not ever?" Bucky asked, his voice tremulous.

As much as Clint wanted to make that promise, words said during sex were always suspect. So he said the closest that he was sure he meant. "Not as long as you want to be held."

"Okay," Bucky said, snuggling back into Clint's arms. His hole was still clenching down around Clint's knot, sending irregular bolts of sensation through Clint, making him cling just as hard.

Finally, though, his knot deflated, and he slowly slid out of Bucky's hole, both of them groaning at the sensation. "You okay?" Clint asked.

"Amazing," Bucky said. "Do it again soon?"

"I don't think I could say no if I tried," Clint said. "But I think we need to have a drink and maybe a nap first."

"A nap sounds good," Bucky said. Moments later, he was limp in Clint's arms, only a soft snore giving away that he'd clearly meant to get that nap now.

It didn't take long for Clint to follow him down.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does the future hold?

"Well, the reports from your doctors and the Avengers are most impressive," the American member of the WSC said, flipping the pages in front of her. Tony had argued - successfully - that this review didn't require the whole council, so it was just Bucky, Clint, Tony, and the WSC representative in a conference room. "You've established several firm relationships, the psychiatrist says that all of the triggers they've been able to find have been cleared out, and there have been no episodes of violence or acting out.”

She closed the file, and rested her folded hands in front of her. "What are your plans, Sergeant Barnes, if we release you to your own devices?"

Bucky swallowed hard, and then said softly, "Tony says I can stay here in the tower. Beyond that - I've started to work out with members of the team to see if I can be integrated in large scale attacks. And I'm learning to garden on the roof."

"Do you intend to join the Avengers full time? No one would deny that you have a skill set that would be very useful to SHIELD."

Clint bit his lip so hard he could taste blood. This interview was about Bucky, and even with all the preparation they'd done - with Fudail, with Natasha, with Tony and Steve and even Maria - the answers had to come from him. Clint couldn't help in this situation, and any interference by him would make Bucky look bad.

But Bucky stayed calm, shaking his head. "Unless it's a situation where my presence means life or death on a large scale, I'm out of that life. I've been used as a tool and a weapon for too long. I'm not going back to that if I can help it."

The councilwoman looked mildly disappointed for a moment, and then the expression disappeared as if it had never been there. It didn't matter to Clint, though. What mattered was that Bucky was expressing his needs and his wants, clearly and calmly. Whether or not she liked the answer was a non-issue as far as Clint was concerned. It showed everyone who mattered that Bucky was thinking for himself.

"Well, Sergeant Barnes, I have to admit that I'm both pleased and surprised with your progress. I think I can safely speak for the council when I say that the restrictions that were placed on your movement and relationships are to be lifted, effective immediately. If you don't want to be held under Agent Barton's collar any longer, that is at your prerogative, just as it is for any other Omega."

She gave him a small smile. "I think that you would be most comfortable if you stayed here, with those who understand your background, but it is no longer a requirement. I wish I could give you carte blanche to move where you'd like, but I do have to require that if you choose to move somewhere else, that you at least keep the Avengers and Colonel Fury apprised of your location, since Hydra would still like to get you back."

"It's fine, ma'am. I don't plan to leave the tower in the foreseeable future. Thank you, though." Bucky was sitting straight, shoulders back, head high, and Clint felt so proud for having had some small measure of responsibility in helping Bucky find himself again, though 99 percent of the hard work had been done by Bucky himself. 

"Then, Sergeant Barnes, I am most pleased to release you from your probation as ordered by the Council. I hope that you find your place here in the 21st century, and that you're happy. You've certainly earned it." She stacked her file folders neatly and stood up. Bucky hurriedly rose to match her, and took her hand when she offered it. 

"Thank you, ma'am. And my thanks to the Council as well," Bucky said, and then she was gone, out the door, and he was sagging back into his chair, and Clint could no longer hold back.

"You did amazing, Bucky," Clint said, moving from his spot next to the door and brushing the backs of his fingers across Bucky's cheek in a motion that was no less affecting for the number of times Clint had done it in the last three months. "Come on, the rest of the team is waiting to hear."

Bucky gave Clint a smile and then turned to look at Tony. There was a moment of silent communication between the two of them, and then Tony said, "I'll let the team know. If you guys aren't up by dinner time, though, I reserve the right to override the door lock and drag you up for champagne."

That left Clint with his mouth hanging open in shock. It was clear that something had been discussed between the two Omegas, but not what. Clint had encouraged the relationship, but this was the first indication that they'd ever kept secrets from him. Before he could ask, though, Bucky said, "Clint, can we go back to our apartment? I'd - I'd like to talk to you."

Clint's heart, which had been soaring after how well Bucky had done, dropped into his shoes. He had refused to discuss whether or not they'd stay together after this meeting since neither of them had any real idea of the outcome. He didn't have any doubt that Bucky cared for him, but Clint had been forced on him, not his choice, and now that he could choose someone else if he wanted, it was Clint's role to accept that if that was what Bucky chose.

"Sure, Bucky," he said, and stood back, letting Bucky lead the way out of the conference room and to the elevator. 

"Our floor, please, JARVIS," Bucky said, and the AI started the elevator moving without a word.

Clint was back to chewing his lip bloody, but for a different reason now. He didn't want to lose Bucky. He loved Bucky so much, but part of that love was wanting to see him free to make his own choices. So if he was about to get dumped, he braced himself not to let Bucky see that he was hurt by that.

As they stepped through the door, Bucky took Clint by the hand and led him to the couch, pushing lightly so that Clint sat down, braced on the edge, unable to relax. Then Bucky sank to his knees, and Clint sat up straight, surprised. 

Bucky still knelt a lot of the time, but this was like a flashback to his first day with Clint, complete with perfect posture and his eyes lowered. "Bucky, what - " Clint started to say.

The tiny shake of Bucky's head caused him to stutter into silence, so he simply waited for Bucky to say what he needed to say, "Thank you, Clint," Bucky said, his voice low but level. "You didn't have to take me in, you didn't have to make me part of your life, you didn't have to do everything you've done to help me, and for that I thank you."

Clint blinked hard, trying to hide the tears he could feel building in his sinuses. He _hated_ getting dumped, and he was going to have to see Bucky every day - except that Bucky was reaching out, placing his hands in Clint's. "I know that my collaring was - unusual - but if you want me, I still want to be yours. Tony said if you wanted me to, I could move out, go live on another floor, but I hope if you don't want me in your bed anymore, you'll at least let me stay nearby."

Shaking his head furiously, Clint wondered if his hearing was on the fritz. It sounded like - "Do you think _I'm_ going to dump _you_?" he asked, baffled.

"I hope not, but I didn't want you to feel obligated to keep me," Bucky said, still not looking up. 

Clint couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. He wasn't being dumped but clearly Bucky thought _he_ was going to be. That couldn't be allowed to stand. Frantic to make sure that Bucky knew how much he was wanted, he used the grip he had on Bucky's hands to pull him up and forward, so that they were pressing forehead to forehead. "How about we keep each other?" he asked. "I think that that's what we should do."

"Really?" and Bucky's voice was a rough rasp. "You want me to stay?"

"Yes!" Clint exclaimed. "Please, stay," he added, calmer. "I don't want to lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I thought you didn't want an Omega," Bucky whispered, his eyes squeezed shut, as if the thought was painful.

"You're right, I don't want an Omega, I want _you_ ," Clint said, feeling so light that it seemed like he was going to start dancing, or maybe floating. "I want you in my bed and in _my_ collar. One that we pick out together, instead of the one you were forced into. I want you with me as much as you want to be there."

Finally, _finally_ Bucky shifted so that he could meet Clint's eyes. "That's what I want, too," he said. 

Clint couldn't stand it anymore. "Kiss me?" he said, his voice pleading.

As Bucky's lips met his, Clint sighed in happiness. Life as an Avenger was never stable, never certain. But for now he had Bucky, and that was more than he'd ever thought he'd have.

And that was perfect.


End file.
